2023: Keep what works, bin what doesn’t

03/01/2023 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

I’ve been feeling pretty overwhelmed recently. Ever since our daughter started school, our son started nursery, and I went back to work, my mental to-do list has felt longer than ever. Every time I tick something off, three more items somehow appear.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy. I like all of my life’s component parts very much. 2022 came to teach me that you can feel both happy with your lot and overwhelmed by the logistics of keeping it all ticking over. I believe this is called adulthood and I was not ready for it.

So I’m in no position to set ambitious New Year’s resolutions. I won’t be learning a new language or running a marathon any time soon. But I do intend to stay upright and continue moving forwards, which is all anybody needs from me anyway.

Rather than setting goals for 2023, I’m setting more of an approach to it, hence: Keep what’s working, bin what’s not.

Because some of the stuff I’ve been doing over the last year has made a positive difference to my life. And some things… less so.

Things for the bin

For example, the length of time it takes me to fix simple things is ridiculous. It took me more than two years to glue a toy back together. The job took less than five minutes when I finally did it.

I was given a photo frame for Christmas 2021. It took me 11 months to have two pictures printed for it. I am still yet to put them in there. WHAT AM I WAITING FOR?

This quirk can definitely go. Taking advantage of quick wins might make me feel more productive too – bonus!

Another habit that’s been doing me no good, is feeling guilty if I stop and do nothing. Ah yes, the classic trap of the overwhelmed! You think that if you just keep going and going forever, you’ll magically feel on top of things.

But guess what? None of us will ever conquer our to-do lists without rest. And sitting on the sofa feeling bad that you’re not folding laundry does not count as a break. I need to do proper, mindless nothing at some point everyday. It’s really not too much to ask.

Like most people, I spent too much of 2022 on my phone. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for it as so much of our lives happen on them. But it’s when I’m scrolling late at night that I do myself damage. I end up feeling hungover the next day. So I’m trying to establish a more healthy boundary around that. WhatsApp will still be there in the morning.

Things I’ll keep

But it’s not all bad news. There are plenty of things that are working for me, so they can come with us into 2023.

2022 was a horrible year for some of the people I love. I learnt more about what it means to be a friend in the last 12 months than I ever have before. I check in with people now more than ever. When you can’t help in any other way, you can at least stay in touch. They may not have it in them to chat back right now, but if they know you’re there, they will when they’re ready. So, friends, expect to hear from me in 2023!

The only reason I’ve survived the last few months is because I’ve started writing down every single thing I need to do. Whether it’s a deadline I need to meet, stuff I have to buy, or messages I want to reply to, it needs to go on the list. I realised that I can’t focus unless I can see on paper that I will eventually get to everything.

And before you ask, yes I do also add on unanticipated tasks after I’ve done them so that I can still tick them off – because I know how to have a good time.

Speaking of lists, I’ve mentioned before that I like to write a quick list called ‘Today’s good things’ in my diary at the end of each day. It’s a chance to stop and notice the high points of even the most exhausting days. I adore the simplicity of it. I did this almost everyday in 2022 and now I have a book filled with notes on nice moments I might otherwise have forgotten, and reasons to be grateful. This habit is 100% staying. I’d love to find more time for longer, just-for-fun writing in 2023, so I’ll be on the lookout for suitable windows.

After I write each night, I read before I go to sleep. Not for long. Sometimes it’s just a page, but it always makes me feel calmer. I think I also love it because this time belongs to me, and so few minutes do these days. Perhaps I’ll be able to grab more moments with a book this year, who knows.

In the spirit of taking time for myself, I’ve been investing a bit more money, time and energy in my skincare over the last few months and I like it. I’ve no idea if it’s making a difference to the way I look, but caring for myself feels good, and that’s worth just as much to me.

Anything that increases your confidence is worth having really, isn’t it. And I’ve realised that reframing how you boost your self-esteem is key. Somebody told me that doing things that scare you is really about expanding your comfort zone. So yes, they may make you nervous, but that’s just a normal part of embracing opportunity.

I’ve tried to keep this in mind when driving to new places, meeting new people, and saying yes to new work, and it’s helped a lot. Here’s to more comfort zone expansion for all of us in 2023.

Happy New Year!

Five things I know about being alive, now I’m 35

12/07/2020 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

I’m old enough to know that most people don’t give a damn that it’s your birthday. But, seeing as you’re here, I’ll tell you that I just turned 35. *releases single party popper into the ether*

This is the first time in a while that my age has felt significant. I see it written next to other people’s names and think ‘Woah, they must be a REAL grown up.’ And then I see it next to mine – a woman who still can’t let her feet out from under the duvet at night in case a scarecrow bites them – and I realise that’s not necessarily the case.

But that’s fine, I like getting older and being reminded that the idea we’ll have it all sorted out by a particular age is a joke. One thing that is guaranteed though is that the more years you live, you more you learn.

And that’s why for the last six years, the birthday gift I’ve given myself is time to type out the lessons I want to note at this particular point in time. It’s great to have it to look back on. (This was last year’s series of hot takes).

So here’s this year’s big five.

1. Accept your decisions – good and bad – because without them you wouldn’t be where you are

By 35 you’ll have racked up a good few decisions that you look back on and think “What on earth was going through my head when I did that?“ I’ve certainly got a strong number, and while it’s super fun to wake in the night and dwell on my own idiocy, I’ve come to realise that they all form a crucial part of our stories.

If I hadn’t taken that terrible job, or experienced that heartbreak, or had that regrettable hair cut for so many years, life wouldn’t look the way it does now. And I wouldn’t have the knowledge and experience I need to keep making better choices.

I think the same rules that apply to your CV apply to life in general – if you can explain what everything you’ve done has taught you, it doesn’t matter if you made a few ill-advised moves along the way.

2. Those moments when you feel like you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing often mark the start of something exciting

Just when we thought we knew what we were doing as parents of a toddler, we decided to start potty training.

We kicked off and within minutes I went straight back to feeling like I did when I first became a mum – totally unprepared, out of my depth, and terrified things would never get easier.

But of course they have. I realised as the week went on that I wasn’t just afraid of the messy reality of teaching a little one how to go to the loo, but also of what teaching her this meant. Independence. The more she learns, the less she’ll need me, and that’s a scary prospect for a parent to face. But it’s also essential and, when I remove my hormones from the situation, incredibly exciting.

All of the best decisions I’ve made in my life – going to university, making new friends, starting a relationship with my husband, having our daughter, pursuing the career I want – frightened the life out of me.

But it’s often that fear that proves this is something you really want to do. Because if it was out of the question, you wouldn’t entertain it. But if you’ve gone so far as to let yourself imagine the possibilities, it might just mean you should go for it.

When we go on holiday (remember holidays?) my husband and I have a rule that if we’re umming and ahing about whether to go on a day trip/do an activity, we always do it, because then we can’t regret not trying. And applying that to daily life has helped me a lot. I don’t want to regret not doing things, however scary they may seem.

The ‘I have no idea what I’m doing’ feeling doesn’t become any less daunting just because you’re a grown up. But you do at least have enough experience to know that you’ll figure it out before long.

3. The pursuit of perfection will destroy you, so let it go

I want my daughter to grow up knowing that everybody makes mistakes. What matters is that we pick ourselves up, understand what went wrong and what we learnt, move on and do better next time.

It’s a perfectly simple concept for even a two year old to understand, and yet, at 35, I still struggle to remember it.

I’ve been particularly hard on myself recently when I’ve made a mistake or a bad decision. Whether it’s something I’ve done whilst driving, something I’ve said, or a parenting choice that’s backfired, I’ve been giving myself a really hard time about it.

I wonder if the current environment has something to do with it. Life feels more fragile, precious and scary than ever right now, so any false move feels significant while our stress levels are heightened.

I’ve always struggled to forgive myself when my interactions with people haven’t gone exactly as I’d like. Despite numerous attempts to stop caring what other people think, the truth is that the older I get, the more I care. I get so few chances (particularly at the moment) to see or speak to the people I love, it feels like it really matters that it goes perfectly when I do.

But of course we can’t control how things go. The only things we can control – in any situation – are our words and our actions. And there’s a world of other factors that also play a part, so we can only ever do our best.

When it comes to parenting, trying to do a perfect job will not only destroy you, it’ll destroy you before 7.30am. There’s no way anybody doing such an emotional, unpredictable, and exhausting job could get every single element right all the time.

Despite my best efforts I make wrong calls numerous times a day. I also make the right call a fair amount too, but if you think they’re the moments my brain likes to put into a montage to show me when I’m lying awake at 3am then you’ve very much misunderstood the tone of this blog.

But the longer I’m a mum the clearer it becomes that perfection isn’t the goal here. Happiness, safety and good health is. There’s nothing like living through a global pandemic to make you realise that’s more than enough to ask for.

4. Whether you like a feeling or not, at least accept that you’re feeling it

Allow me to share my incredible time saving method.

Instead of beating ourselves up for feeling nervous ahead of a social event, stressed out by a heavy workload, or still scared of the dark at the age of 35, how about we just… accept it’s how we feel. All of a sudden our problems are cut in half as we no longer have self loathing to deal with too. We can focus instead on exploring why we feel this way, and what could help us feel better.

I spend so much time trying to mentally push away feelings that I don’t think I should have. I lose hours feeling ashamed of my fear, frustration, or upset and guess what? It just makes matters worse.

We can’t help the way we feel. The way we respond to each situation is entirely personal. So our time is better spent listening to what that feeling’s trying to tell us, rather than hoping that if we berate it enough for existing it’ll just disappear.

5. I do my best work as a human being when I slow down and think about what I’m doing (don’t we all?)

It’s when I trick myself into believing that everything has to be done in a rush that I make decisions I’ll later regret.

And it’s when I react NOW rather than waiting a few seconds to think, empathise, breathe and then speak that I’ll end up saying something I’ll wish I hadn’t.

Since the world plunged into lockdown, there have been few reasons to rush at all. And though I wish I’d learnt it in different circumstances, the lessons this has taught me about the importance of slowing down are invaluable.

I’m a better mum when I take a moment to consider the world from my daughter’s point of view before responding to her 55th request for a snack before 10am. And I’m a better wife when I stop and think about whether I’m really angry because my husband has forgotten to change a toilet roll, or because I’m tired from living through a global crisis and need to go to bed.

We’re all better people when we try and see the world from other people’s perspectives and consider how our actions could affect others. Right now we’re being shown in the bleakest way possible just how crucial it is that we do.

As I head into my 36th year, I want to keep all of this in mind. To be more empathetic. To make good, thoughtful decisions. And to be kind to myself when I inevitably slip up and learn more lessons along the way.

I’ll look forward to telling you all about them when my birthday comes around again next year. Thanks for reading.

Things I want to keep in mind during this strange and scary period of social distancing

29/03/2020 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

I had an idea last week to write a list of things I wanted to keep in mind while we all stay at home to help reduce the spread of Coronavirus. I’m so glad I waited until we’d actually experienced a full five days at home trying to live and work and look after our toddler before I wrote it. Optimism is essential right now but so is a strong dose of reality, which I think we all got this week.

This is not an attempt at advice. There is no pandemic experience on my CV. This is just a list of stuff I want to keep in mind to help maintain my perspective (and sanity) in the weeks and months to come.

It’s also an excuse to communicate with the outside world. Hello out there, I do hope you’re OK and staying safe. If nothing else, this should at least help you pass a few minutes.

1.You don’t suddenly have to become a different kind of parent

When this all kicked off, the internet became flooded with tips for things to do at home with children, which is great.

But as always, if we’re not careful, we can suffer from the flipside of social media: comparison syndrome. As I’ve discussed before, since becoming a mum I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of time feeling inadequate because I don’t have the exact same skills and ideas as every other mother on the planet.

But I want to remember that I don’t suddenly have to become a nursery nurse, children’s entertainer and Blue Peter presenter all rolled into one just because we’re suddenly spending so much time at home. Yes I will try some new things and find nice ways to entertain our daughter. And we’re adapting our routine to make the best of the current constraints. But that will do. Normal life was working well for us, so the closer I can keep our days to feeling like they usually do, the calmer we’ll all feel.

2. Television is not the enemy

People talk so much about children and TV so I won’t harp on – all I want to say is this: my toddler, just like me and her dad, needs to wind down sometimes. She gets tired, she needs a bit of space, and she likes to catch up with the characters she loves. So at certain times of the day, we let her watch some telly.

This period we’re facing is bizarre, unsettling and weirdly knackering, so I’m sure she will end up watching a bit more than usual, should it make sense for us and her in the moment. An excess is bad for everyone, but the odd dose of comfort won’t do anybody any harm.

3. What I wear has a huge impact on how I feel

I gave birth to our daughter in November 2017 and we were then indoors most of the time for months. That period taught me (along with a million other things) how strong an impact my appearance has on my mental wellbeing. To feel like the day is worth doing, I need to look in the mirror and see somebody who would be happy to open the door to a human being who doesn’t love them unconditionally.

I don’t mean I need to put on a chuffing dress and heels to feel like a person, I just need actual clothes. My pyjamas are the best things in the world at bedtime, but if I’m still wearing them too late in the morning, and I’m not doing so because I’m resting, I start to feel sad. So getting up and dressed like I’ve got somewhere to go is a must for me.

4. We won’t all feel the same way at the same time

At separate points this week, all three of us had a moment when our current living situation proved too much. Leon got stressed out. I had to leave the room as the mess, noise and unwillingness by some residents to just EAT THEIR DINNER was doing my nut. And then – because why should she be left out – our toddler declared, if only through her body language and disproportionate irritation with her snack bowl, that she too was finding this situation to be bullsh*t.

It sounds ridiculous, but I hadn’t realised that we wouldn’t all necessarily be in the same place emotionally at the same time, and that that would be a challenge to manage in itself. Sometimes our daughter just needs us to hold her. Sometimes Leon needs to go out for a run by himself. And sometimes I need to eat an entire easter egg in front of The Mindy Project undisturbed. If we can all just do our best to give each other what we need during this time, it’ll make getting through it easier.

5. Any amount of time outdoors is worth having

We can’t go far and we can’t go within two metres of other people, but we can still go outside. Even just ten minutes outdoors can make all the difference. It’s easy to feel like it’s not worth the effort, that if you’re not going out somewhere proper then you might as well not go out at all, but even just a small dose of fresh air can make everything look brighter.

We’ve started going for a run about in our local park in the morning to let off steam and it’s become the highlight of our day. I hope that when this is all over we carry on treasuring every opportunity we have to play together outdoors.

6. Gratitude does everybody good

It’s good for people to know we’re grateful for the difference they make to us, and it lifts our spirits too to step back and acknowledge the things we appreciate. I said at the start of the year how grounding and therapeutic I find jotting down a list of things I’m grateful for each week, however small. I definitely want to keep doing this, to help me spot all the lovely moments that are punctuating our days as a family during this peculiar time, whether it’s fresh air, good health, cuddles with my daughter, or every bite of Cadbury’s chocolate I can get my hands on.

7. Make time to read

Reading makes me feel calmer than pretty much anything else. Because this crisis is so distracting, I’ve found that I’ve defaulted to sitting and scrolling through my phone rather than thinking about what would be a more relaxing use of time. The more lost or unfulfilled I feel, the more I find myself on my phone but it usually just makes me feel worse. So I want to actively decide to use the rare chunks of time I have to myself to read a book instead.

8. Keep creating

I always feel a lot more fulfilled when I’ve found time to make something. Whether I’ve tried a new recipe, drawn a picture with my daughter or written a blog, I feel better for it. I’m not overwhelmed with free time – that concept flew out the window the second I became a mum – so I want to make the most of any opportunities I have to be even slightly creative. For example, baking a batch of rice crispy cakes could class as a form of artistic expression, couldn’t it…?

9. I will never regret having extra time with my family

Extra time together in all its forms, however tricky to navigate it may be, is a gift. I’ve another blog brewing about how much I already know I’m going to miss our daughter being two years old, so I want to remember that this is actually all bonus time with her. And though I wish it was in different circumstances, having her dad around so much more than usual is great.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re a week in, I’m shattered and would not say no to a bit of space if it was available to me. But there are numerous lovely moments to be found amongst the chaos, and we’re lucky to have them.

10. Make the time to communicate

Just because Leon is working here, it doesn’t mean I’ll know how his day went unless I ask. Sure, I’ll know that our daughter decided to join him for a conference call and serenade his colleagues with a rendition of Baa Baa Black Sheep, but there might be other stuff he needs to unload. We still need to talk to each other.

Our daughter remains a two-year-old and, as such, not the best at articulating how she feels. Although this situation is exasperating at times, I need to make sure I stop and explain to her what’s going on, and help her tell me what’s up too. This will never stop being true, our current situation has just highlighted how quickly things will crumble if I don’t.

And regular check-ins with other friends and family are important as well. Finding the energy to get back on your laptop after a day’s work for a video call is a bit tough. But it’s worth it to share laughs and updates with people I don’t get to see everyday. A pandemic is a crazy and scary thing to live through. I want to remember how important it is to stay in touch and help each other through it.

11. If we look back on this time and our biggest complaint is that we felt bored and cooped up, we will be the lucky ones

There are thousands of people who are putting themselves at risk everyday by carrying on doing their jobs. And there are plenty of others for whom this crisis is much scarier than it is for people like me.

Having to stay home, work without childcare and cope with how strange and apocalyptic life feels right now is hard, and I’m all in favour of allowing ourselves to acknowledge every feeling we experience.

I also know that it will help me to keep going when this period feels endless if I remember that these are all entirely bearable hardships, and that if we all just keep doing as we’re told, we’ll help bring this crisis to an end.

Stay strong everyone, and stay safe.

Loneliness and time alone and how becoming a mum changed my relationship with both

20/10/2019 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

Our daughter was born and all of a sudden all those moments of time to myself that I’d never realised were such a big part of my day evaporated. Goodbye solitude, I’ve got company.

You don’t appreciate how many parts of your life constitute alone time until they reduce down to seconds grabbed between feeds, cuddles, and attempts to persuade your child not to dive head first off the sofa.

I look back on all those times I went to the toilet without somebody there to squish my tummy. On all those showers I had where I didn’t feel the need to poke my head out of the cubicle every 30 seconds to shout “ARE YOU OK?” to the little person in the cot in the next room. On all those train journeys I spent reading a book rather than supplying snacks to the small dictator in the pram, perched on the edge of my seat, waiting to see which of the items I’ve selected will be deemed acceptable today. (Fruit, mummy? Really? Try again.) Did I appreciate all that freedom? Of course I didn’t.

Nobody appreciates time until something changes your relationship with it, and becoming a parent definitely does that.

But while I find the lack of freedom hard, having such limited windows to myself has forced me to make the most of the time I do have more than I ever did before.

I’ve learnt to snatch moments to myself, however brief. Ten minutes with Friends on in the background while Leon gives our toddler a bath and I cook dinner. Forty minutes on my laptop on a Sunday morning before everybody else wakes up. Thirty minutes slumped on the sofa on a Friday evening in the gap between my return from work and Leon’s arrival with our daughter after nursery. I don’t mind admitting that I LEG IT home for that sit down. You’ve got to get your rest any way you can in this game.

When time feels so precious, you don’t let yourself waste it. I now know just how much it’s possible to get done in half an hour. Want the house tidied, a tray of brownies baked, and a week’s worth of washing put away? Get a parent whose toddler is taking a nap on the case – and they’ll still have time to negotiate you a new mortgage deal, too. I’ve been amazed and delighted by how the limits on my time have helped me focus my mind and get sh*t done, because I simply don’t have time to fanny about.

I’ve also changed how I think about how I use my days off work. I used to think annual leave had to be used for a holiday or a trip away, or at least for a fancy meal out. And of course it’s great to keep some for those treats, but now I also keep a handful to do the things I can’t do the rest of the time. To sit in a café and write a blog. To go to the cinema by myself. To listen to a podcast with swearing in it without worrying that I’m going to damage the next generation.

I adore my girl and value our time together more than anything else in the world. Being her mum is also the hardest work I’ve ever done, so I do my best to take moments to myself where I can, so I can give her all I’ve got when we’re together.

Because we’re together a lot – most of the time in fact – which is exactly how I want it to be. Nonetheless, one of the other things I’ve found most surprising about life as a parent is how lonely it can feel, despite the fact that you’re in company almost constantly.

It’s the weight of the responsibility, I think. On the logistical front, it’s being the one in charge of deciding everything that we’ll do, when we’ll do it, and what we’ll need to have with us so that we survive the day/avoid significant social embarrassment.

And on the emotional side, the desperation that (when it’s just the two of us) only I feel to get things right for her can feel a bit isolating, too. All I want is to make her happy and to create days that make her feel loved, inspired, amused, interested, and, let’s not forget, sufficiently pooped so that she’ll sleep well, for all our sakes. It’s a lot to be responsible for getting out of a day, and when things don’t go to plan – which is all the time, by the way – it can get you down.

I am of course not on my own. My husband is just as much a parent as I am. But for two days of the week, he’s at work and I’m at home looking after our daughter. And on the days when I do go to work, I do the majority of the childcare around it, because he works longer hours than I do. As a result (and because we live in the society that we do), it’s me who takes responsibility for most of the bits and pieces that keep us going day to day. The meals we eat, the endless supply of milk our daughter requires, the admin that gets our bills paid and keeps the roof firmly over our heads, and so many more things that find their way on and off the ever-growing list that lives inside my brain.

I am incredibly happy and grateful for our life and feel appreciated for my efforts, I just sometimes feel a bit alone in my role, too. I expect we both do.

But as our daughter it getting older (all of a sudden she’ll turn two next month) and she’s getting better and better at communicating, she’s taking an increasingly active role in our time together, and it’s making me feel so much more… accompanied in everything that we do.

She can now express opinions (which, of course, can be inconvenient/tricky to manage, but let’s focus on the positives for now, shall we?), so she can tell me what she thinks of the ideas I have for us. The other day I told her we were going to the farm and she said “Yay! Yarm!” and it made the whole trip that bit more joyous because we were in on the decision to go together.

For a while, parenting feels like something you do ‘to’ your child, rather than with them, because you just have to make decisions on your own. It can be a lonely job, being in charge all the time, so it’s nice to start getting some feedback. It’s most definitely not always positive, but when it’s good, it makes the meltdowns worth facing. And every meltdown teaches me more about how to empathise and communicate with a child who still has so little control over her world.

When you’re expecting a baby, you understand that you’ll probably feel pain during the birth, tiredness after sleepless nights, and a relentless need to go for a wee every 20 minutes for the rest of your life, but you don’t think about what responsibility for your child will feel like in practice. I didn’t realise how much effort I’d have to put into feeling content as an individual (as well as a mum), but I’m glad I have as it’s made all the difference.

Though a lack of time to myself can be trying, knowing that I’m making every moment I do get count helps me feel like I’ve had a break, even if it’s a short one. And when the pangs of mum-life loneliness kick in, I’m lifted by how much more confident I now feel to make decisions for us, to try new things, and to talk about what a roller coaster motherhood can be.

A year into motherhood: Forever changed, forever the same

19/11/2018 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

When I look back on my life before my daughter was born, all I do is search for her.

Where was she on our wedding day? Where was she on that city break? Did my mum hold onto her while I took my A-levels? Did she sleep by my bed in halls?

I search our photos for a pram just out of shot, or a tiny hand clutching my trouser leg, because I struggle to believe there was ever a time before.

I knew that having a baby would change my life, I just didn’t know how.

I didn’t know that whilst the tiredness, relentlessness, and lack of moments to myself would be hard to adjust to, it would be the weight on my heart that would change me the most.

I knew that I’d love her, but I had no idea what that love would feel like. She’s starting nursery now, and I had to fill out a form explaining what she needs to be happy. A form about me would just say: HER. Bring me her. Show me she’s OK and everything will be fine. She’s what happiness looks like for me now.

Our baby will turn one this week, and the oddest thing about this milestone is how simultaneously quickly and slowly this year has passed by. I’ve lived every second of the last 12 months, and yet it’s slipped through my fingers. There have been days when I’ve been awake for and aware of almost every hour, but I’m still not sure how quite so many of them have gone by.

One minute she was a newborn who lay down for most of the day, and now she’s a little person, on a one-child-mission to destroy our lounge. I can’t tell you how a year has managed to sneak passed in the life of a girl whom I swear we only just brought home.

Back at the start, once the initial weeks of fear and feeding and figuring it all out were done, I realised that I didn’t know where to put myself. I wasn’t sure what day-to-day life with a baby was supposed to look like once you’d got your sh*t together. But then I joined some classes and groups, I tried doing too much, I tried doing too little, and I found a balance that worked for us. Maternity leave is an education in how to cope when you feel lost. You’ve got to do it your way, the only problem is that it’s you who has to work out what that is.

Motherhood has changed who I am and confirmed who I’ve always been, all at the same time.

Becoming a mum wiped the floor with me – it shattered my heart, rewired my brain, and stretched, scarred and knackered my body more than even the most high-tempo zumba class ever could. It’s fundamentally changed how I see the world, and given me a sense of purpose like nothing I’ve ever done before. It’s slowed my desired pace of life right down, and made me see the benefits of a life lived locally.

It’s done all of this whilst also cementing everything I’ve always known to be true: That I need fresh air everyday. That too much small talk leaves me cold. That I never wanted to go out on Saturday nights anyway. That I need to be creative to feel alive.

The trick, if you can manage it, is to let the person you’ve always been find a way to thrive in this new world. It’s not easy – I’m still working on it. We all just have to keep on working on it.

We’re moving into a new chapter now – I’m going back to work part-time, and our daughter will be looked after by somebody else whilst I’m gone. She went to nursery for a few hours last week, and I went to a café to write this. I cried into my hot chocolate as I typed, and then later my scrambled eggs. I’m just not used to being away from her.

It’s funny because so much of parenting is about trying to secure time away from your baby. You work hard to get them to nap so that you can rest. To play with a toy long enough for you to drink a hot drink. To. just. stay. there. whilst you go to the toilet for once by yourself. But it’s all short term, they’re always close by (she can push the bathroom door open now anyway). I hope she knows that I’ll still be close by.

This time last year I was about to have a baby, and now I have a one year old, a toddler waiting to happen. Time’s flown by, we’ve all changed and grown up, and discovered just how strong we can be.

All I want for this baby on her very first birthday is to bring her as much joy as she’s brought me.

Be your own adjudicator

19/08/2018 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

Be your own adjudicator

‘Should’ can be an unhelpful word, particularly when we use it as a weapon with which to beat ourselves.

Life is fast and competitive and it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by our awareness of what other people are doing. I enjoy feeling connected to people I know and people I don’t via social media, and getting little insights into lives that are different from mine. But I can also feel myself drawing unhelpful comparisons. Noticing things that other people do that I don’t, and interpreting them as evidence of my failings.

But just because something exists as a possibility, it doesn’t mean that you should do it. It’s just one of the options. Do it or don’t, no-one cares.

My problem is that I hear ‘should’ when it’s not even being said. I confuse hearing somebody say “I am doing XYZ” with “You should be doing XYZ.” I see people talking about how they’re raising their children or building their careers or decorating their homes, and forget that what they’re saying has no relation to me.

I’ve always struggled with the fear that I’m not doing the right thing. I don’t mean morally or legally – fear is such a dominant emotion for me that I’m always pretty confident I’m on the right side of the law. No, I’m worried about doing The Optimum Thing.

If we’re on holiday and looking for a restaurant, I’ll worry about choosing the ‘right’ one. What if we’d have had a better time elsewhere? What if that table by the window would have enhanced our experience? What if sitting this near the loos ruins the ambience? What if it’s actually this thought process that’ll ruin our night?

Be your own adjudicator And now that I’m a parent, I – like every single mother on earth, probably – worry that I’m not doing everything I ‘should’ do for my daughter. Should we be at a class? Should we be socialising? Should we be playing educational games indoors? Should I be doing more to make the most of her – whatever that means? As if just loving and caring for her with everything I’ve got isn’t enough.

Parenting is relentless decision making. And what’s harder than being the person who has to make them all, is the realisation that nobody’s going to come along and let you know if you’re doing it right. You just have to trust yourself in the moment.

When our daughter was very small, I used to imagine there would be a time in years to come when she’d say to me: “Mum, you know that day when I was so upset in January 2018? It’s because I wanted you to heat my milk up/put me to bed/ turn off that unbearable episode of Gossip Girl.” But as the sleep deprivation started to wear off, I realised: That’s not going to happen.

You’ll never know if you did the right thing, because the right thing doesn’t really exist. There’s no list, charting all the options in order of preference, nor is there a jury waiting to judge you on your choices. We have to be our own adjudicators.

It’s true for all areas of our lives. There’s no adjudicator who’s going to come and tell you which career path you ‘should’ have taken, which date you ‘should’ have gone on, or which Netflix series you ‘should’ have chosen to best entertain your baby. We did what we did based on the information we had at the time – there’s no other way to do it.

Be your own adjudicator Since becoming a mother I’ve learnt that, to be happy, I have to accept my choices as I make them, one by one. Decisions require my attention quickly; I don’t always see them coming. I can’t always nail it, and, if I’m not careful, I’ll spiral into a long and pointless thought process about what I ‘should’ have done instead.

But now I’ve realised how unhelpful that is, and how many moments with my baby I’ll miss if I spend all my time analysing what I’ve done in the past.

Instead it’s better to focus on making decisions that suit us both today. My daughter is the most important person in the world to me, and I’m that to her, too. So when I’m deciding how we spend our time, it’s OK that I do so with what I need in mind as well – my energy levels, my mental health – because if I’m well, so is she. As I’ve written before, the inherent guilt of parenting makes it hard to prioritise yourself, but with nine months of experience under my belt, I can tell you: you must.

So I want to park the ‘should’ and have a little more faith. In myself as a parent and as a fallible human being, and in the need for there to be healthy differences between how we all lead our lives.

Because time will pass, no matter how we spend it. And to hand more of our precious hours over to regret, rather than to joy, and to self-criticism rather than kindness, feels like the kind of waste we should all do our best to avoid.

Creativity: What to do with all that crippling self-doubt

27/08/2017 by Charlotte 2 Comments

What to do with all that crippling self doubt I fell into a pit of despair and self-doubt this week. And I didn’t even see it coming.

I wrote a blog that I was proud of and that I’d been thinking about for some time. But the minute I hit ‘publish’ I felt absolutely ridiculous. Like, who the HELL did I think I was? Who wants to hear what I have to say? I couldn’t believe I’d had the audacity to put myself out there.

I seriously considered chucking it all in – closing down the blog, quitting my writing pursuits, and taking up bird watching or whatever. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and pretend I’d never even tried.

Dramatic enough for you? Well it certainly felt that way.

A few days on, I can look back and see what was going on there. But in the moment it was the most horrific feeling. So for anyone experiencing the same thing – and as a reminder for myself next time this happens – let’s break down why self-doubt occurs and what we should make of it.

At least it proves how much you care

There aren’t many things that bring out this level of emotion in us. I remember feeling a similar sense of self-loathing when being rejected by men. But at least I could tell myself that eventually I’d find somebody else (you know, once I’d got all the listening to power ballads/analysing their text messages/threatening to leave the country, out of the way).

But when it comes to creativity, there is no ‘somebody else’. Writing is what I want to do. I can’t go to a club and meet another calling, can I?! (Just pausing for a minute there to try and remember the last time I went to a club and I can’t. Does visiting a very noisy branch of Currys count?)

But this acknowledgement is a good thing. This feeling means you care because you’re doing what you want to do. The turmoil may feel awful, but it’s a sure sign of your determination to succeed. And that’s something to be proud of. Most people are still trying to figure that bit out.

Creativity is always going to feel audacious

Nobody asks you to put yourself out there. Yes, an editor might ask you to write an article, or a director might invite you to an audition. But they probably only did it because you said you had something to offer in the first place.

Telling the world that you’ve gone ahead and created something is always going to feel audacious. Because in order to do that, you have to believe in yourself. You have to have dedicated real, personal time to a project that you think is worthwhile. And with every creation comes the risk that people won’t be interested in it. There’s no way around it. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t, it just means you shouldn’t feel bad for finding the process scary.

What do you know anyway?

I wrote just a couple of weeks ago (see, I don’t even listen to my own advice) that a lot of the time you’ll never even know what people think of your work. Just because you put something out there, it doesn’t mean people are obliged to respond. Editors don’t have to reply to pitches. Record labels aren’t required to say whether they enjoyed your song. And people on Facebook didn’t sign a contract saying they would always ‘like’ your updates.

But that doesn’t mean your work is bad. Or that people didn’t appreciate it. They may well have done. You might have had the most profound impact on somebody, they just didn’t tell you. And what does it matter if what you wrote/made/sang only touched three people? Is it only volume that makes something worthwhile? I don’t think so. It’s called starting out, and nobody gets to avoid that stage I’m afraid.

Maybe they’re not your audience, but somebody else will be

Obviously we’re not all doing this for fun – many of us need to make a living from creativity – so we have to find an audience for our work.

I’ve experienced a lot of silence recently. I’ve sent numerous pitches and ideas and, in most cases, heard nothing back. And when that happens it’s easy to think it’s because you have nothing to offer and should quit trying. But that’s not true.

I know from experience that a ‘yes’ always comes in the end. You just have to find an alternative target. So your energy should go into discovering who that should be, rather than feeling like a failure for having an empty inbox.

Take that emotion and put it into your work

All that dramatic energy conjured up with your self-doubt needs to be put to good use. So chuck it back into your projects.

Since finally managing to remove my head from my arse and remember why I do this writing thing, I’ve managed to get back on it. For one thing, I’ve written this. One of my favourite things about writing is that it can help make other people who are like you feel better. I don’t know if it will be of use to anyone, of course, I’m not telepathic. But I see value in it, so it’s worth a shot. And worst case scenario, working through this thought process on the page has done me some good. And I’ve had some right nice snacks whilst I’ve done it.

I’m trying to tell myself that if I can just channel all that turmoil into my blogs/pitches/ideas, I’ll be well away. So bring it on, soul-crushing feelings of anguish and distress, I’m going to make my MILLIONS from you (or something like that…)

Remember: Self pity is no use to you

I wrote recently about the excellent book Big Magic and the many lessons Elizabeth Gilbert teaches about how to avoid letting fear stop you being creative. And amongst them is the fact that self pity gets you nowhere. Feeling sorry for yourself because something you wrote doesn’t prove popular, or because your idea gets rejected, doesn’t help you make any progress at all.

Of course, it’s important to take time to feel how you feel – pretending otherwise is even more exhausting than the self-doubt itself. But once you’ve expressed it, it helps to get your eyes back on the prize and to know that only keeping going will get you where you want to be.

Sometimes just meeting your own needs is enough

I need to write, I do. Some people get creative in the garden, other people take on major physical feats, but for me it’s writing that makes me feel most together. I mean, I hate it too. I despise it. Oh my goodness, the to-ing and fro-ing with an article, the hot hot heat of a lap permanently populated by a laptop, the utter disparity between how phenomenal an idea sounds in my head and how it reads on the page. It’s torture. But a torture I can’t live without, apparently.

So maybe that’s enough. If creativity gives you what you need to get by, that in itself has to make it worthwhile. All the better if people read/laugh//listen/watch/whatever. But if it’s bringing something meaningful into your life, you can’t deny that it has value.

So that’s what I’ll be telling my self-doubt when it inevitably sets in again. Probably about three minutes after I hit publish on this blog, the bastard.

How to avoid burnout: Learn to mind the gap between body and mind

20/08/2017 by Charlotte 2 Comments

How to avoid burnout: Learn to mind the gap between body and mind I’m going to keep this brief because I’m tired. To do anything else would go against the very purpose of this post: to talk about avoiding burnout.

Getting older has taught me many things. That pretty much everything and everyone is too noisy. That a stool isn’t a seat, it’s a one way ticket to back ache. And that just because your parents are no longer on hand to tell you not to eat 12 Jaffa Cakes at once, it doesn’t mean you should.

Mind the gap

But less obvious is the lesson I’m just starting to grasp about the gaps that can exist between our bodies and minds.

Between what our brains tell us that we can do, and what our bodies can actually withstand.

Between the energy we have in our muscles, and the space our minds need to think.

You know that feeling when you just keep going and going and going and then you suddenly realise that if you don’t go to bed RIGHT NOW you’re either going to collapse or throw up or both?

Or when your brain is just so FULL – with worry, dilemmas, ideas or emotion – that even though technically you could go out with friends or visit family, you know if you do, you’re just going to burst into tears?

That’s what it feels like when the gap trips us up and burnout starts to happen. And it’s chuffing horrible.

Life can trick us into thinking we can handle more than we can. It sounds simple when it’s written down but it’s amazing how frequently it can catch us out. We don’t always realise we’re pushing ourselves until it’s too late. And getting to that point never feels good.

Have the confidence to say no

I’ve written before about how, to feel better, we have to stop trying to do everything at once. And I think part of the issue is confidence. It takes courage to say no to invitations or to admit that you’ve got too much on your plate. Or to say, regardless of how simple an activity might be for somebody else, for you at this point it’s just too much.

Nobody wants to look weak or uncommitted, so all too often we’ll power through regardless. But staying well and happy matters more than saving face. So we need to find a balance between what we’re physically and mentally capable of, and be confident that our limits are justified.

As you change, your limits change

I’m currently trying to adjust to what I can and can’t do whilst pregnant. My brain has a million ideas about how I could spend my time. And then I remember that I get puffed out going up the stairs, and I have to scale back my plans.

And although it’s obviously all worth it, the process is frustrating nonetheless. My FOMO (sorry mum, that means ‘Fear of missing out’) is through the roof as I see people doing all sorts of things that just aren’t feasible for me at the moment. I’m having to learn how to have a nice time in this condition – how to socialise, write and exercise – without pushing myself too far. It was an inevitable part of the process, but I hadn’t appreciated the conflict I’d experience between what my mind and body want from me.

Your boundaries, your business

No matter what our circumstances are, we have to learn to foresee what our minds and bodies need to keep us well and avoid burnout. Annoyingly they don’t always talk to each other until it’s too late, so we have to use what we’ve learnt about ourselves to plan ahead.

What that looks like will vary from person to person. Right now for me that means going out just one evening during the week, as it’ll take me the next two to recover. And remembering not to make plans after appointments with the midwife as I’m always SHATTERED.

For you it’ll mean something else. Our personal boundaries are exactly that – personal. So nobody gets to set them but us.

What do you do to avoid burnout?

Hit the f*ck it button: On finding the courage to just do it anyway

13/08/2017 by Charlotte 2 Comments

One of my very best friends uses an excellent phrase that I’ve been adopting more and more in my everyday life.

She calls it ‘Hitting the f*ck it button’.

You do it when you’re just DONE. Done worrying, done being afraid, and done doing what you think everybody expects you to do. You hit the f*ck it button and find the courage to see where it takes you.

And mate, it’s a great button. I encourage you to bring it into your life.

I realise I’m using it every time something SCARES THE LIVING SHITE OUT OF ME but I do it anyway. Let me give you some examples of where it’s really come in handy.

This one time, I met my husband.

I was NOT in the mood the night I met Leon. But it was a friend’s birthday and the last night of the second year at university so, sure, I went out. My friends had been telling me how great this guy was for ages and I remained cynical. I’d met guys before and they’d not always been so great. But BOLLOCKS TO IT, I thought, I can say hi. So I walked up to him, tapped him on the shoulder and said hello. Such behaviour was profoundly out of character for me, but I’d hit the button. I had nothing to lose and, as it turned out, absolutely everything to gain.

Another time, I buggered off to Australia for a bit.

Two years ago, my husband had the opportunity to go and work abroad for a few weeks. And I was just about to be between jobs so I decided to go with him. It felt insane as I didn’t know what I’d do when we got back, but when else were we going to go to AUSTRALIA? I rang my friend – coiner of the ‘f*ck it button’ – to ask if it was a good idea. She said “Well, you rang me, so you’re clearly looking for a yes because OBVIOUSLY that’s what I’ll say”. (Isn’t it funny how who we choose to go to for advice tells us everything we need to know about the advice we’re looking to hear?). So I found the courage, hit that button and I went. And it remains some of the most fun I’ve ever had.

We decided to try and have a baby.

If you thought too much about having a baby, I swear nobody would ever do it. Like, if you really considered in detail the likely pain and discomfort and the lifetime of WORRY, how would anybody find the courage? So, this is where the button comes in handy. I knew we wanted to have a baby (and that we were in as good a position as possible in our lives to go for it etc. etc.) so I couldn’t let fear get in the way. I told myself I would worry about the detail of the birth and parenthood once the baby was in existence. And now, here we are. I’m 25 weeks pregnant and taking it day by day.

I took up freelance writing.

Sometimes I have lots of work and sometimes I have none. And the only way I can get more work is by putting myself out there. By coming up with ideas and sending them out to people. By gathering the courage to email strangers to ask if they’d like to give me money in exchange for words. And apart from the message I write in my correspondence I have no control over what they think of me. There is every chance that every one of them will think I am a moron. But if I DON’T contact anybody, I’ll get nowhere. So every week I hit that button and I keep on trying.

It really is a marvellous device and I’m proud of myself every time I push it.

Thank goodness for Big Magic

Another excellent woman who encourages similar behaviour is Elizabeth Gilbert who wrote Big Magic – Creativity Beyond Fear.

I love reading books and articles designed to give you the courage to be braver, and this one had the most profound impact. The combination of this book and the knowledge that the best things in life happen when you hit the f*ck it button have given me the courage I needed to be bolder.

Big Magic is about not letting fear stop you from doing what you want to do, and creating what you want to create. I took so much from this book but these are my favourite lessons:

Do it because you love it – everything else that comes of it is a bonus.
If you don’t pursue your great idea, before long somebody else will.
You have to accept that fear will inevitably always be with you. You just can’t let it guide your decisions.
Anything bad for you is bad for your work (with the exception of Jaffa Cakes, I’m assuming).
If you get a no, move on and offer your idea/work/whatever to someone else.
Done is better than perfect.
OF COURSE you have the right to be creative, you have that by just being alive. You don’t need anybody’s permission.
Don’t worry about being original, be authentic.
Don’t actively try to write something that helps people. Just write and if it helps then GREAT.

If you’re following any kind of creative dream, I really recommend reading it. If nothing else, you’ll find you’re suddenly out of excuses not to give whatever you want to do a try.

Fear is boring, because fear only ever has one thing to say to us, and that thing is: ‘STOP!'” – Elizabeth Gilbert

Getting older has given me feel a much greater, more urgent need to be brave. Because with everyday that I’m not, it’s only me that loses out.

So I’m going to keep Big Magic’s lessons front of mind, and I’m going to carry on creating without fear (or at least without paying too much attention to fear). And I’m going to keep on hitting that beloved f*ck it button.

Because life just keeps getting more interesting every time I do.

7 things that have surprised me about the first 5 months of pregnancy

30/07/2017 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

7 things that have surprised me most about the first 5 months of pregnancy Pregnancy is everything and nothing like you think it’ll be.

It’s something you see on TV and in magazines and all over Instagram, but when it comes-a-knocking at your door it’s still a surprise what it does to your mind and body. Or that’s what I’ve found anyway.

The past five and a bit months (or three and a bit, as I was blissfully unaware for six weeks) have been quite the roller coaster, so I thought I’d write about the elements I’ve found most surprising.

To be clear, I’m not complaining about any of this. I like to use this blog to chat about things I imagine other people have felt too, to help us all feel a bit less alone. Whether this is or is not your experience, I’m really interested, so please do let me know.

1. The isolation of the first trimester

I swear, I took the pregnancy test and the symptoms kicked in immediately. Nausea, exhaustion, sudden bursts of emotion, a constant fear that I was going to fall over and – my personal favourite – the relentless need to eat sugar.

And whilst all of that was to be expected, I didn’t expect to feel as isolated as I did. I couldn’t arrange many social activities for fear that I’d have to bail on them at the last minute as I felt too poorly. I also didn’t really feel up to going out and felt nervous when separated from my fridge, my steady supply of Laughing Cow cheese triangles, and my bed.

It didn’t occur to me that, because we wouldn’t tell most people I was pregnant until we’d had the 12 week scan, I’d just have to hang out by myself a lot and wait. I think my situation was magnified because we’d just moved house and we didn’t have Wi-Fi or terrestrial TV, so I had nothing but old DVDs to entertain me. (I’m not sure if you’ve watched one of those recently but you have to GET UP to change over to a new one, which is highly inconvenient.)

But anyway, that sense of isolation came as a surprise. I’m very happy to be able to leave the house again now.

2. My capacity for snacks

You don’t have to have read many posts on here to know that I like a sugary treat. And now that I’m pregnant that enjoyment has turned into a NEED. Consuming regular snacks feels crucial to my survival. Whereas previously I wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without an umbrella, now I wouldn’t go out without at least one chocolate coated bite.

The crazy hunger of the first 12-14 weeks has definitely eased off – I can now have my dinner after 5.30pm and not fear for my life – but I’m still chomping on the regular, just to make sure I stay upright. Even by my standards, a vast amount of sweet goods are passing my lips right now.

3. The things that have made me cry

Here’s a list of things that have made me cry since I’ve been pregnant, despite not being in any way sad.

A very happy Gavin and Stacey episode I have seen four million times
Being a bit too hot
Opening my birthday presents
Walking down the stairs
Walking up the stairs
My nephew giving me a little kiss on the cheek
The fact that it was Tuesday

Hormones exist to mess with us and I can confirm that mine are taking their job very seriously.

4. My new-found fear of loneliness

All being well, I’m going to have a small person to hang out with for the foreseeable future from the end of the year onwards. And I can’t wait, but it’s strange how, despite the constant promise of company, you can start to fear being simultaneously lonely.

It’s because it’s all unknown. The routine, what we will and won’t feasibly be able to do with a day, how I’ll cope with looking after somebody who can’t really communicate, how the inevitable exhaustion will affect my capacity to travel, interact and whatnot. I am game for all of it, but it has surprised me that these little pangs of fear have started to kick in.

I’m planning to do lots of things to address this. To build a sense of local community. To seek advice from the dozens of other people I know who’ve done this before. And to keep being honest about how I feel.

5. How quickly you fall into an existential crisis about who you are now

That there will be a person in the world to whom my name will be ‘mum’ is an incredible and bizarre thing. It’s a whole new role and dimension to my life that I welcome with open arms and relentlessly watering eyes.

I’ve been thinking a lot about all the other roles I have in the world – a wife, a friend, a sister, an auntie, a writer, a comms manager, a dedicated fan of leopard print clothing, a Coronation Street enthusiast – and how having a baby will affect each one.

I will, of course, continue to be all of these things (I’ve been delighted to find how prominent leopard print is within maternity wear), I’m just having that inevitable ponder about how each role will shift within the new, baby-inhabited world. I imagine all parents-to-be go through this thought process.

All I know is what’s important – no matter what kind of change you’re going through – is that you don’t lose sight of what matters to you. And that you let yourself figure out how to give each the appropriate amount of attention in your own time.

6. The crazy sense of vulnerability

I was once in such a rush in Central London that I didn’t just walk into a stranger, I walked up him. My feet were on his calves before I realised what I’d done. He was remarkably nice about it considering my incredible invasion of his personal space. But since I’ve been pregnant I’ve felt the need to slow down.

I’m frightened I’m going to fall over and do myself damage. I’m scared of people with bags whacking into me and hurting my small inhabitant. And I’m relieved every time I’ve manage to get home without incident. It all looks very melodramatic written down, but I guess that’s my point. The *drama* of these feelings has surprised me too.

I just feel a huge weight of responsibility (both physically and metaphorically), which is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Biology dictates that I’m the only one in our marriage who can carry this little being around for now, and I’m desperate not to put us in harm’s way. So a slower pace and avoiding walking up strangers feels sensible at this point.

7. That so much of this feels normal

I never thought it would feel normal to be kicked several times a day by a tiny person I’ve never met. But here we are. And I must admit it’s a relief that it doesn’t freak me out. Because it is a crazy thing to imagine before it happens and I worried I’d just spend the whole time scared.

And although fear is definitely a prominent feeling for me right now (but honestly when has it not been), excitement and determination are helping keep it at bay. I want to do this and when I don’t think about the details too much (denial will remain my friend until the third trimester, I’ve decided) I’m confident that I can.

That feeling alone has come as the biggest surprise of all.