life advice

Does parenting get easier? Nope, you just get more resilient

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You’re about to discover just how strong you really are. That’s the sentence I find myself saying to friends about to have babies.

I say it because it sounds wise and reassuring, but also because it’s gentler than saying “That child is going to DESTROY YOU – but don’t worry, you’ll cope.”

The trick to parenting is resilience. Without it, you’re screwed. But the good news is, you can’t help but develop it.

As I see it, these are the three main things that simultaneously test and build your resilience when you’re a parent.

1. The fact that you don’t really have a choice

My daughter is almost 16 months old and at no point in her life so far have her demands been negotiable.

When she wants milk, she wants it now. When she wants a snack, she wants it now. When she wants me, for reasons only she understands, to let her into the bathroom so that she can grab a clean nappy and wear it around her neck like a scarf, she expects this opportunity to come about THIS INSTANT.

Since the moment she was born, it’s been our job to give her what she needs, when she needs it. No matter how tired, emotional, confused, scared, fed up, distracted or lost we felt, we had to keep going.

What it means to be truly at someone’s beck and call 24/7 takes some getting used to. You know that’s what you’re signing up for, but not what the reality will feel like.

I’m grateful that I don’t have a choice in the matter, that it’s my duty to serve her, and that I’m unable to function if she’s unhappy. Because it means I don’t have time to stop and think.

I don’t take a moment at 3am when she’s calling for me, to ask if this particular moment is convenient. And I don’t make time to notice that I’ve made her breakfast everyday for almost a year and a half now and never once has she even offered to make mine.

This is my job and I need to show up for it, rain or shine.

But of course that doesn’t mean your wellbeing isn’t important. Strength comes from giving yourself permission to matter too. To speak honestly about how you feel, to do activities with your baby that fill you both up, and to acknowledge that if you’re happy, they’re happy.

2. The fact that the best and worst bits will be a surprise

Your resilience is tested every time something happens that you weren’t expecting. Which is all the time.

Every single one of our best and worst moments has come out of the blue.

I didn’t expect to find breastfeeding so difficult.

I didn’t expect to realise in the middle of Heathrow Airport after we’d checked in our luggage, been through security, and ordered an ill-advised salad with a well-advised side order of chips, that those spots on our daughter’s ears were chickenpox and we wouldn’t be flying anywhere today.

I didn’t expect to spend 28 hours in hospital with her whilst she had antibiotics pumped into her little veins to rid her of an eye infection.

I never expect her to fall over but she does, all the time.

I often lie awake at night worrying about all the things that could happen and trying to work out how I can become organised enough to ensure that they won’t.

It’s a tough moment when you realise that there are only so many to-do lists you can write and parenting articles you can read. Surprises will still occur. But with every one that does, you gather more evidence that you can and will cope.

3. The fact that your heart lives in your child’s hands, and they can crush it whenever they like

I can find the words to describe most things, but I can’t describe the way I feel about my daughter.

When she was born, the love was so overwhelming that it broke us; more than the sleep deprivation or the attempts at feeding, or the c-section recovery. The hard and fast tumble in love with this baby was almost more than we could handle.

But of course, only almost. You get used to functioning in a world where you feel this way.

You get used to feeling genuine physical pain when your child cries.

You get used to how brutal it feels every time one of your efforts to give them a good start in life is rejected – a homemade muffin chucked on the floor, an attempt to get them dressed that ends in tears, a lovingly-read bedtime story during which they get up and leave the room.

You get used to feeling guilty every time they get ill, sad, hungry, thirsty, too hot, too cold, frustrated you won’t let them eat paper, displeased with one of their socks… basically every second of the day.

All I want on this earth is for my daughter to be happy, but because she’s a human being, she’s going to experience a lot of other emotions as well. As her mum I have to become resilient enough to handle that reality.

Because it’s not just me who needs to be able to cope. I have to help her grow up ready to face the highs and lows life will throw her way, too.

Lifestyle and mindset choices, 2019

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They’re not so much resolutions, you see, as choices I want to make about how I live my life and how I think, this year. I figure that if I focus on these, the life goals that I have – the writing work I want to do, the creative projects I want to develop, the marvellously calm and fulfilling home and family life I want to create – will all feel more achievable.

I want to be clear at this point that I’m writing this today as somebody who is struggling with all of this. This isn’t a list written by somebody who’s got it all worked out and who’s advising you on how to be better. This is about writing down what I know I need to do and remember, so that I have it to refer to. And it’s here, too, for anybody else who finds it difficult to keep their habits and mind in check, should they need a little reminder.

This is my plan for 2019:

1. Be a better planet inhabitant

I’ve been trying, like so many of us, to recycle more and to minimise my impact on the planet. I’ve found it really useful to hear from others about action they’re taking, so here are a few things I’m doing on this front:

a) Using washable sanitary products. There was a piece on Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour during 2018 about the level of plastic in sanitary products, and I felt ashamed that I’d simply never considered it. So, I’ve purchased reusable ones as a simple way to reduce the amount of plastic I use and chuck away. I went for these, and there are plenty of others available too.

b) ALWAYS carrying a shopping bag with me. I have become that woman who stands behind her husband in a queue in a supermarket shouting DON’T LET THEM GIVE YOU A PLASTIC BAG, I’VE COME PREPARED! My in-laws bought us a SakItToMe bag for Christmas (they roll up really small and are super easy to carry around) and I’m going to make sure I have it with me at all times.

c) Reducing our meat consumption because science says it’ll help, and listening to science is a good idea.

d) Always taking water out with me. I know it’s an obvious one, but having a baby is such thirsty work that it’s forced me to realise how easy it is to always have a water bottle with me, rather than buying a drink whilst I’m out. I want to try and spot other ways I can cut down what I put in the bin by thinking ahead.

As I said, these are just a few steps I’m taking, and I’d love more ideas. What are you doing to live a greener life?

2. Focus on what I can control: My words, my actions

I’ve mentioned this on here so many times, but whilst it’s a simple concept, it’s very easy to forget.

There are two things in this world that you can control – what you say and what you do. That’s it. When I feel myself getting into a worry spiral (this happens to me regularly), it tends to be because I’ve started tricking myself into thinking that I can or should be able to control other things. But no matter what the situation is, or who it involves, these remain the only two things within our power.

This year I want to be quicker to acknowledge this, as it always makes me feel calmer and lets me put my brain space to better use. Perhaps if somebody could text it to me everyday? I think that would help.

3. Worry less about what people think

I’m never surer that a person cares what people think than when they tell me that they don’t care what people think. OF COURSE YOU CARE, YOU’RE NOT A PSYCHOPATH.

But what matters is that you don’t let it get in the way. That you don’t spend more time thinking about what people think than doing what makes you happy.

I worry every time I write a blog post that somebody somewhere will see it as further evidence that I’m a moron, but do I let that stop me hitting publish? No, I don’t. I just do it and hope that if they think it, they’ll resist the temptation to email me to let me know.

I doubt very much that my worrying about what people think has ever had any bearing on what they’ve thought of me anyway, so it’s really not a good use of anybody’s time.

4. Stay focused on what I’m doing

Is a New Year’s resolutions list even complete without a mention of a more mindful use of social media? I don’t think so.

I have a terrible habit of looking at other people’s life updates and seeing them as evidence of the ways in which I’m failing. I’m most affected by anything to do with people’s careers, particularly when people share publications they’re writing for or books they’ve published (Why don’t I write for them? Why hasn’t the book I haven’t even written been listed as a bestselller?). Since I had a baby, I’ve also started partaking in what I like to call ‘Parenting Inadequacy’, which I highly recommend. All you have to do is forget absolutely every single thing you’ve ever done for your child, look at one photo of a stranger with their offspring in a museum/garden centre/puddle and let yourself feel like the world’s worst mother. It’s fun AND worthwhile!

This is all a total waste of time, leads to nothing good, and is entirely self-inflicted, so enough already. Be inspired by other people, sure, admire their photography if you like, but spend all your time comparing and all you’ll gain is a headache. I’m not a failure for not being somebody else. Being just the one person at a time is NORMAL.

5. Remember that my achievements incorporate everything I’m doing

It’s easy to slip into thinking that you’re not doing enough. Be it for your child or towards your career or whatever. But everybody only has so much time, and life is just a constant game of prioritising. Some days I just have to be a parent and a tired human and my other ambitions have to take a back seat. And then other days I’m full of energy and writing ideas and I manage to get lots done.

I’m prone to focusing far more on what I’m not doing than what I am. And I also let myself forget how much work goes into the various aspects of my life. Being all the different types of people that we are to this world – a mum, a wife, a writer, a The Marvelous Mrs Maisel enthusiast – takes a huge amount of time and energy, and our sense of achievement should come from it all.

6. Be a better friend to myself

You know what I’m good at? Listening to a friend or a stranger about how they think they’re failing at life and then telling them all the reasons why they’re not. You know what I’m bad at? Doing the same for myself.

I met a mum outside my daughter’s nursery this week and told her she was absolutely doing the right thing by having a day where her child was being looked after by somebody else so that she could go and get some jobs done. I then told her how terrible I was for doing the exact same thing.

This year I want to try and step in on my own thought process and be the stranger who would definitely tell me that I’m not such a failure after all.

7. Value my time 

I don’t get a lot, mate, what with the baby and the washing and Coronation Street on five times a week. So I want to be more mindful about how I use it. Be present when I’m with my daughter – play with her, look at her, take her in, and try not to be doing 300 other things at the same time. Check my phone when I have something to check rather than just scrolling for no reason at all. Read a book in the evening, rather than channel hopping until I fall asleep. Use my daughter’s nap times to write and pitch and connect with the creative side of my brain.

I guess what I’m saying is that I want to be kinder to myself, and to the planet this year. How about you?

Thanks so much to everyone for reading what I had to say in 2018, and I look forward to chatting to you more in 2019. Happy New Year, friends.

What does ‘ready’ mean anyway?

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“So, are you ready?”

Whatever milestone we’re approaching, that’s the question we always ask each other. Whether we’re moving house, starting a new job, getting married, or, in my current case, preparing to have a baby.

I do it too, but thinking about it, I’m not really sure what we mean when we ask this question.

Because, other than logistically, how could we possibly be truly ready for life changes this significant? Can you see into the future? Because I certainly can’t.

I’ve come to the conclusion that, due to our lack of telepathic ability as human beings, ‘ready’ isn’t really achievable. So I’m going to stop striving for it.

Sure, I’ve bought some teeny tiny baby clothes, a pack of wipes and an array of nappies, but I’m not fooling myself into thinking that makes me ready. It just means I’ll (hopefully) avoid total embarrassment at the hospital.

I’ve been carrying this small person around in my body for over eight months now and I still can’t imagine what life’s going to be like when they’re out. I know that they will come out at some point and MAN is my pelvis looking forward to a break, but the image of what parenting will look like remains ever so hazy.

But don’t worry. Because although I can’t tell you that I’m ready for what’s to come, what I can offer is my absolute openness to this situation. That might not sound very romantic but, actually, I can’t think of anything more important.

I’m sitting here struggling to reach my laptop because of the huge bump currently housing our child, knowing that I want them in our lives more than anything. When I imagine what it’ll be like to meet our son or daughter and to hold them for the first time I’m unable to hold back the tears; I’m beside myself. It’s just all too huge and emotional for me to feel fully prepared for it. But I’m seriously game, and hoping that will get me through.

Life is all about trying to achieve the unachievable. Our conversations are filled with questions for each other that we know full well we couldn’t answer ourselves. But it tends to come from a good place. What we’re doing is voicing the fears we know we’d have when approaching a big change, and trying to reassure each other that everything will be OK.

Nobody ever knows what’s going to happen. That’s the risk we take when we do anything. With every day that’s passed since we found out I was pregnant, I’ve become more acutely aware of the risk we’re taking with our hearts by doing this. But I still wouldn’t change it. I’ve just had to give myself permission to try and acknowledge the enormity of it, and that that in itself is why it’s not possible to ever really feel ready.

I’ve never had my eyes so open and yet felt so blind. But I’m here and open to what’s to come, so let’s get to it. As far as I can see, that’s the best any of us can offer when stepping into the unknown.

Strength is: Letting people be there for you

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Strength is: Letting people be there for youA couple of years ago one of my best friends and I arranged to spend a Saturday at a spa.

It sounds like a wonderful, relaxing way to spend a weekend. And it would have been, if I hadn’t been deep in the throes of what I now know was panic disorder. It’s hard to describe what I felt like at that time without just repeatedly saying words like INSANE and HORRIBLE and LIKE MY HEART AND BRAIN WERE TRYING TO DIG THEIR WAY OUT OF MY BODY THROUGH MY MOUTH.

I can look back on it now and understand it, but at the time I had no idea what was going on. I had constant panic attacks – I mean, about 25 to 30 a day – whilst trying to hold down a job, a marriage, and a social life. It was not fun.

And there came a point during this day when I just couldn’t take it any more. On the face of it I was just another woman, laughing and joking and sitting in rooms of varying temperature with her friend. But on the inside I was losing my freaking mind. So I decided to tell my friend what I was going through, and that I didn’t know what to do about it.

I think about that moment a lot. About the weight that lifted from my shoulders when I admitted it. About the fact that I could see she didn’t even think about judging me. And about the unquestioning support I’ve had ever since.

Why am I talking about this now? Well, it’s partly because time and distance are a marvellous thing. I can look back on that period – and I do, daily – and see everything it taught me. About myself, about my friends, and about what it takes to admit that you’re suffering.

The older we get, the deeper our friendships become. I guess it’s because we have less time and therefore less motivation to hang around people with whom we feel we need to pretend to be OK when we’re not OK.

I value every conversation I have with friends where we tell each other what’s really going on. But even more than that, I value the courage and the strength it takes for any of us to talk about it in the first place.

Strength is: Letting people be there for youOn reflection it took me months to admit what was happening to me. I thought that it would pass. I thought that I could handle it. I thought I had to handle it. Saying it was only the beginning – I had a long way to go before things got better – but you can’t get to step 20 without taking step one, and once I’d taken it, I didn’t look back.

We all want to just be all right. It’s more fun to be around, it’s more appealing, and it makes for better Instagram posts. But life doesn’t always let us off so easily.

I’m about a month away from having our baby and, to be honest, I’m amazed that I haven’t yet totally lost my sh*t. I’m not saying I haven’t come close, but I’ve found the knowledge that any anxiety I experience is also felt by the baby to be marvellously grounding. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my moments, but my focus is clear and all I can say is that it’s helping so far.

But I’m also realistic. I know that I have a weakness and I’m not letting it out of my sight. I’m trying to tell myself and those around me now that if I struggle after I’ve had the baby, I want to feel able to say so. All anybody can do is take it day by day, so that’s what I’m doing.

When you’re in the thick of a struggle and you let people in on what’s happening to you, you feel like you’re making such a fuss. Like you’re moaning and exaggerating, and bothering people with the contents of your mind.

And it’s only when you’re on the other side – when somebody speaks to you about what they’re going through – that you can see that simply isn’t the case. They’re not over-sharing or being dramatic, they’re being brave and strong, and giving you the chance to be there for them, which is a gift, actually.

I will never regret finding the courage to say something about what was happening to me. And I can only hope that others will do the same when they need to, too.

Do you remember when all you wanted was everything that you’ve got now?

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Do you remember when all you wanted was everything that you've got now?Somebody put this on Twitter recently and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

Because, now you come to mention it, yes I do remember, but I hardly ever take the time to acknowledge it. And isn’t that a shame.

Human beings are wired to be accidentally ungrateful. Or perhaps it would be fairer to say that we’re wired to be ambitious. Always striving for the next thing rather than basking in the glory of having achieved our goals. But why don’t we realise that we can do both?

There was a time when all I wanted was to see Leon everyday. We lived in different cities for a couple of years whilst he studied and I worked. I thought that if we could just live together and we could hang out every night, I’d be the happiest girl alive.

And now? Well, now I do get to see him everyday. And, yes I am incredibly happy. But I’d be even happier if I could see him everyday AND he could remember to take the rubbish out on bin day. Or if I could see him everyday AND he could pop his boxer shorts into the laundry basket instead of next to the laundry basket. THEN I would be the picture of contentment, I promise. As if any of that bullshit even matters.

We do it with our careers too. Not long ago, all I wanted was to write in my own time and be paid for it. I could only imagine what it would do for my confidence and sense of self-worth, if only I could make it happen.

And now it does happen. Not all the time, obviously, because that’s not how the freelance roller coaster works. But it does occur a fair amount. I even have the guts to ask for appropriate fees now, too – something else I fantasised about  – because with every commission I know more about what I’m doing.

Do you remember when all you wanted was everything that you've got now?And I’m really happy about it, but I also spend a lot of the time that I could dedicate to being pleased to worrying. About messing up a job, or not finding the next one, or how I’ll manage to fit it all in. Your mind sees the opportunity to step back and feel content and fills the time with concern instead, the silly sausage.

There have been so many things I’ve begged the universe to make happen. For people to travel home in one piece, for babies to come into the world safely, for celebrations to go off without being spoilt by the memory of me tumbling into them down a flight of stairs or vomiting all over myself. And for the most part, the universe has delivered, which is damn nice of it – but I’m not sure I’ve really given it the credit it’s due.

One of my biggest fears about having a baby (and I have a lot should you wish to hear them) is that I’ll blink and miss it. That I’ll be so focused on surviving that I won’t stop to look at this little person we’ve made and to feel grateful. That I’ll get the balance wrong and dedicate too much time to the wrong things and regret it forever.

These worries themselves are a perfect example of a terrible use of time, even though I know it’s all part of the parenting deal. Because I wanted this, so I need to make time to remember how lucky we are that it’s coming about.

Twitter can be a barren wasteland of despair sometimes (and particularly during 2017, it seems) but sometimes it brings you a point of view that changes the way you think, and for that reason I’ll never leave.

This simple question has stuck with me and I’m determined to keep it in mind. Because I’m the first to wallow when things don’t pan out as I’d hoped – and I never question whether that’s a good use of time. So it’s OK to take a moment to notice when the precise outcome you wanted has come about too.

It’s not gloating, it’s gratitude, and there’s plenty of space for more of that in the world.

8 thoughts it’s totally normal to have when you’re pregnant (I hope)

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8 thoughts it's totally normal to have whilst pregnant (I hope)“Oh my goodness, WHAT HAVE WE DONE”

There isn’t a bone in my body that isn’t happy that I’m pregnant (except perhaps the ones in my poor, squashed pelvis). But that doesn’t stop me feeling a bit panicked about the effect this decision will have on our life. So many of the things we can currently just do – go for dinner, bugger off on holiday, dance into the night at 28 weddings a year – are going to be either off the table or a much more complex process.

Parenthood will undoubtedly bring a world of joy and discovery like we’ve never known before too, and I can’t wait. But you’re still allowed to have moments to think “WOAH WE DID NOT FULL CONSIDER THE IMPACT THIS WOULD HAVE ON OUR KNOWLEDGE OF COOL EATERIES,” too, I feel.

“It would be great if I could just not be pregnant for this hour/day/moment”

I am incredibly happy to be pregnant and grateful for the opportunity to have a child. That being said, the total takeover of your body is no small deal. Heartburn is a daily occurrence. My back hates me. My lower regions sometimes feel like they’re all just going to fall out. So it’s a bit tough and therefore inevitable that every now and then you wish you could have a brief break. That you had the option to pop your tummy and the baby down somewhere safe while you do the big shop or mop the floor without getting puffed out.

It’s worth every second of discomfort, of course, but it’s also OK to wish for the occasional bit of time off.

“What if my child thinks I’m a loser?”

I’m not scared that my baby won’t think I’m cool, I know they won’t think I’m cool. That’s the deal when you’re a parent, as I understand it. I just keep wondering what they’ll think about what I’ve done with my life. I have a terrifying vision of them being asked what their mother does and them saying “Well, she dicks about on the internet and talks a lot about writing, but I’m not sure if she’s really ever done anything.”

Every milestone makes us feel the need to assess whether we’ve lived a worthwhile life, so I guess it’s inevitable that pregnancy would do the same thing.

“But… we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing”

We didn’t have to take an exam to establish our abilities to look after another human being. We were free to get pregnant and then deal with the consequences. And it dawns on me a good few times a day – particularly at night when I’m definitely at my most rational – that we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing. If parenting was just cuddles and saying “HELLO SAUSAGE!” into a baby’s face every few minutes, we’d have it nailed, but I hear there’s more to it than that.

Everybody I’ve spoken to about this says that everyone feels the same way, which is reassuring. Perhaps if every parent wore a badge that said “I am making all of this up as I go along” we’d all feel better.

8 thoughts it's totally normal to have when you're pregnant (I hope)“If I’m not careful, one of these days I’m just going to wet myself”

Our baby can now put more pressure on my bladder than I’m comfortable with. With one kick or punch, they’re able to test my pelvic floor more than any yoga or pilates class ever could. He or she enjoys challenging me at the most inconvenient times – in the middle of wedding ceremonies, in meetings, during my commute. I’ve managed to stay on top of it so far, but the risk of a sudden damp incident has never been so real.

“Perhaps it won’t hurt that much after all?”

At prenatal yoga, the teacher gets us into positions that’ll be particularly ‘helpful’ when giving birth. The problem is, I’m in such denial about ever having to give birth that I tell myself this doesn’t really apply to me. I know the baby’s in there – the sight of my slowly expanding stomach is a handy reminder – but their exit isn’t something I’ve faced up to yet.

I think it’s human nature when faced with a major feat to either catastrophise or naively assume it’ll be OK. And although I do not believe for a second that it’ll be anything other than the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, I can’t face that thought yet. Not properly. So, to help protect me from the truth, my brain keeps suggesting that maybe it’ll be all right. You know, not as bad as EVERY SINGLE WOMAN IN THE WORLD says.

Could happen, guys. Could happen.

“Life would be so much easier if it was socially acceptable to just make whatever noise you need to, when you need to”

I can no longer put on shoes, sit in a chair, get out of bed, or lift anything whatsoever without groaning. My chest and throat are home to such levels of acid reflux that I could burp or hiccup or both at any moment. And what pregnancy does to an already fragile digestive system, well, let’s just say, it doesn’t make it more predictable.

So, for those of us juggling a world of unexpected occurrences within our bodies, life would be a lot simpler if we could just let all the sounds happen, without fear of funny looks/social exclusion. But alas, we do not live in such a society, so I save as many groans and throat-based surprises as I can for the comfort of my own home.

“I just don’t want to let anybody down”

Although you know you’re not doing it on your own, there’s no denying that physically being pregnant is very much a one person job. So it’s normal to feel the weight of that responsibility. And with that comes a fear that you’re somehow going to ‘do it wrong’ or let people down.

There’s only so much you can control, of course. You can look after yourself, read all the advice, and ask for help when you need it. But you’re just going to have to take it day by day and expect the unexpected.

Nonetheless, it’s only normal to be afraid and it’s healthy to admit how you feel. Acknowledging that something this life changing puts as much pressure on your mind as it does your womb can only help to make us all feel less alone.

Five holiday habits to bring home with you

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Holiday habits to bring home with youWe’ve just spent a glorious week’s holiday in Menton in the south of France. I’d never heard of it before we booked our flights a few weeks ago and now I have it to thank for a much needed seven days of rest,  swimming in the sea, and more photograph-taking opportunities than any Instagrammer could hope for. (I’ve written a little guide to my favourite places and restaurants to visit in Menton for any future visitors).

But when we returned to normality yesterday, I felt myself automatically slip back into behaviours that simply don’t exist on holiday. My priority stopped being what felt good and relaxing, and I started darting from one thing to another, and ended up falling asleep early doors with a headache.

So, today I woke up determined to try to live life a little more like I do on holiday by adopting five more en-vacances-like habits. I hope you’ll find them useful too.

1. Drinking enough water

Following a horrific dose of sunstroke a couple of years ago (which resulted in a journey of self-discovery in a beach chemical toilet), I now know to respect the human body’s need for water. And nowhere am I more conscious of this than on holiday. This trip I got into the habit of waking up and drinking a 50cl dose of the good stuff, and then keeping it coming throughout the day until my bladder could take no more. If sunstroke taught me anything it’s that there are worse things than needing the loo all the time.

I’m pregnant so hydration is a constant agenda item for me at the moment, but it’s also just good sense. I prioritised it particularly on holiday because I was keen not to feel rough whilst away, but what about the rest of the year? Feeling good at home is just as important, so let’s keep that H2O a-flowing.

2. Using your phone in a more considered way

Despite having written my own set of rules for a healthier relationship with your phone, I’ve still been spending too much time with mine. But on holiday I’m much stricter. Every moment we’re away feels precious and cannot be wasted scrolling mindlessly through timelines. I didn’t have a complete cut off – I’d use it in the evening to post a photo or two on Instagram and to respond to messages – but I didn’t spend half as much time on it as I do usually. And I was so much happier and calmer for it.

But as soon as I got home, I had my phone in hand and was flipping from app to app for no apparent reason; it was just habit. Time is just as valuable here as it is on holiday, so I’m determined to introduce more of my vacation attitude to technology into everyday life.

3. Reading, glorious reading

And very much connected to the aforementioned mobile phone time cut down is the excuse holidays bring to indulge in books. Of course, this treat is in fact available to many of us everyday, but I for one do not make the most of it. I read all the time when we’re away. Every day we went to the beach I’d leave my phone in the hotel and sit reading under our umbrella (until I had to go back inside to use the bathroom again, that is).

Reading is the most wonderfully calming form of escapism, so why don’t I do more of it? Again, I think it comes down to the amount that we value our time on holiday. We’d never sit in our hotel room scrolling through TV channels for no reason – this is time we’ve secured to rest so we must make the most of it. Well, now I want to do that with the rest of my life, too.

4. Having a right good look at everything

Exploring new places is one of the best things about going on holiday. The slow pace lets you take in the sites in your own time, with only the occasional need to remark about how very sweaty you’re feeling to interrupt your activities.

When I’m on holiday, I’m there to look at all of the things. The views, the buildings, the sites, the colours. But I don’t think I give the world anywhere near as much attention the rest of the time. I’m too busy needing to get on the train or to the shop or back home for Coronation Street. And while it’s reasonable to move a little faster in your everyday life, it doesn’t do you any harm to try to do just one thing at a time. To walk down the street, not to do it whilst also looking at your phone. To have dinner with your husband, not to sit there looking over his shoulder at an episode of Friends you can already recite word for word.

I’m person #857849 on the internet to talk about the joy of being present and mindful and whatnot. But there is a reason it’s such a popular subject. Injecting a little of that holiday pace and focus into real life can only make it more enjoyable.

5. Listening to what you need

It’s wonderful to go away or just to take time off at home. For once you have the freedom to not just do what you want but what you need, too. You can lie down when you’re tired. You can have a dip in the sea when you’re hot. And you can get away with eating a pain au chocolat for breakfast every morning because “that’s what the baby wants”.

Time is in your gift when you’re on holiday, which makes all of this easier to bring about. But by taking a break you’re also giving yourself permission to look after yourself. And I don’t see why we can’t apply the same rules at home. We don’t have to go out tonight if we’re not up to it. Nor do we have to answer that email or tackle that nasty mark on the hobs until we’re feeling more energetic. We can go to bed if that’s what we need. Nobody is going to say anything (and you’ll be asleep anyway, so).

You’ll never regret doing what you need to feel well, rested and ready to face the world. Only you really know what that is anyway, so it’s OK to make it happen.

I think we should start bringing more of the kindness we show ourselves on holiday home with us. I started today –  I took on one task at a time, I thought twice before picking up my phone, and I ate ice cream because I felt like it. As to how it’ll go when I have a more to do than a pile of washing I don’t know, but the determination to try is a good start.

Holidays may be a once-a-year treat, but the lessons they can teach us about how to get better at relaxing are there for the taking any time.

I am brave and so are you

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I’ve been thinking a lot about bravery. Not large-scale, obvious bravery, deserving of medals and ceremonies, but everyday acts of courage that can easily go unnoticed.

What requires each of us to be brave varies enormously. Something I have to be brave to get through might not even make it onto the list of things you’d worry about. Similarly something that keeps you awake at night might feel as simple to me as opening the fridge, or buttering a piece of toast.

And I think that’s what makes it difficult. That sometimes we feel we’re wrong for needing courage to endure parts of life that others would find easy. But we’re not.

Sometimes it requires bravery for me to go and meet friends for dinner. You wouldn’t think it – I’ll enjoy getting ready, I’ll be the one to suggest a restaurant, and I’ll crack jokes every ten seconds from the moment we sit down because HEAVEN FORBID there should be a moment of silence. But my heart will be beating faster than it should. I’ll be hoping hard that I won’t f*ck up. I’ll be giving myself silent pep talks throughout, including reminders to breathe. And I’ll be looking forward to getting home and looking back on another night where I proved to myself that I’m OK. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy going out, there’s just a lot going on behind the scenes, as there is for all of us.

But then other typically scary activities won’t frighten me at all. I’ll happily do a bit of public speaking and (as long as tripping hazards are kept to a minimum) I’ll probably enjoy it. I’m also rather partial to a roller coaster. I like interviewing total strangers too. But ask me to walk into a pub full of friends and I’m gonna need a second to prepare myself. We’re all different. There is no right or wrong way to feel.

But it can feel like there is, and that influences how we deal with it. It’s much easier to berate ourselves for feeling nervous, worried or upset than it is to just admit it and accept that it’s OK. We assume others would judge us if they knew how we felt so we get in there and do it to ourselves first. How remarkably unhelpful our brains can be.

I am brave and so are youBut this is not how we treat our friends. So many of our conversations with each other are about courage. About being brave enough to speak up at work, to ask for what we want from a relationship, or to overcome our imposter syndrome and keep following our dreams.

We use such kind language with each other. Any time a friend says they’re ‘ridiculous’ for feeling a particular way our immediate response is “No, you’re not”. It’s so obvious that it’s automatic. Their feelings are never invalid, so why do we think ours are?

Ever since I started freelancing, bravery has become a much bigger part of my life. And I think it’s done me good. I simply cannot make any progress at all if I’m not brave. No emails would be sent, no fees would be discussed, and no articles would be written as I’d be too afraid to start typing. But every time I overcome a fear I’m encouraged to do it again. Because each time I’m gathering more evidence that it’ll all be OK. That I will cope and I will learn. And that the worst-case scenario is not just bearable, but worth the risk.

When my anxiety was as its peak I used to sit on the train and wonder how many other people were having to work as hard as I was to hold it together. Now I know that the answer was undoubtedly loads. Every person is being brave in some small way, you’d just never know it from looking at them.

We should all be better at acknowledging when we’ve been brave. We should swap the story we tell ourselves around so that what we hear is that we coped brilliantly, not that we were stupid for ever thinking otherwise.

Because it’s OK to be who we are and that doing so takes courage. Accepting that might be the bravest part of all.

How to feel better about the way you dress

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Clothes: Creativity never goes out of styleI can count on one finger the number of times I’ve walked into an event and been 100% confident that I was wearing the right thing. It was my wedding day so I wore my wedding dress and I stand by that decision.

But the rest of the time, well, I’ve tried. Sometimes I’ve loved my top or my jeans or my ability to fit a vest top underneath anything in case of a draft. And other times, at best I’ve been unsure and at worst I’ve felt like a mess.

It’s only recently that I’ve acknowledged how much our self-esteem can be affected by how we feel about what we wear. I started listening to Dawn O’Porter’s podcast Get It On and it’s made me reassess my approach to clothes.

If you’re not familiar, the podcast is a series of half hour chats between Dawn and guests about how they dress. She’s interviewed lots of excellent people, including Dawn French, Fay Ripley, Chris O’Dowd and Jason Segel. The conversation is always fun – and often really funny – and all about what motivates each person when it comes to getting dressed, what they like and how they feel about clothes.

It really makes you appreciate the world of thoughts and feelings that everybody has about their appearance. I thought other people just fell out of bed and into the perfect outfit but GUESS WHAT it’s a process for everyone. It’s made me much happier about my wardrobe, and reminded me that clothes and deciding how you want to look should be fun. 

Clothes: How to feel better about the way you dressAs ever, a discovery that’s made me feel better is now on here for you to try should you wish to, along with it a list of rules I’m now living by when it comes to my clothes.

1: Remember who’s in charge

Oh hi, that’s you. The odd uniform, dress code, and unavoidable fancy dress party aside, most of the time it’s us who gets to call the shots about what we wear – not magazines, not adverts, and not some social media update about a fashion week with a hashtag you can’t decipher. It’s all up to us and the only rule we should follow is that we should feel good in what we put on. You can even wear red and pink together now and nobody will bat an eyelid, so go nuts.

2: Reserve the right to change your mind

Find me a person who can say they have never regretted an outfit and I will give you the LIAR. I’m from the pedal pusher, skirt-trouser, and Spice Girls-inspired platform trainer era, so if you want to chat about fashion faux-pas just walk this way. But it doesn’t matter, a risk or two won’t do you any harm. You’ve got to go with what you want and what feels right at the time. And worst case scenario, the laughs you’ll have with your children and grandchildren when you look back on photos of your hot pink cropped trousers will be priceless (at least that’s what I’m telling myself).

3: Repeat after me: Bodies change and that’s OK

My hips have expanded loads in the last couple of years – they might as well just write CREATING SPACE IN CASE OF CHILD on my body in stretch marks and be done with it. And other things have changed too – my weight, my skin, my hair – because that’s what it is to be a person who is ageing at the traditional rate. Some things that used to fit no longer do, and other things that used to look wrong now look better. It’s just the way it goes, and as long as we’re happy with our bodies and our health, we just need to roll with how our wardrobe options change with time.

Clothes: How to feel better about the way you dress4: Have a regular clear-out 

Shopping for clothes used to be my favourite activity; now I prefer having a clear-out and taking a load down to the charity shop. The rule is: if it no longer makes you feel good, it goes. It sounds brutal but it works. And I don’t mean that you then have to replace everything that’s gone, but that you focus more on the items that do bring you joy, vary what you wear them with, and generally build a happier relationship with your wardrobe. Or that when you do buy something new, you do so better informed about the criteria an item needs to meet in order to secure a place on your rail.

5: It’s OK that other people will wear different things

You can waste a lifetime walking into parties, restaurants and offices and feeling like you’re wearing the wrong thing because it’s different from what other people have on. But there’s no right and wrong way to dress. Unless you’ve accidentally shown up without anything on, or you’ve chosen to wear your wedding dress to someone else’s nuptials (I dreamt that I did this and may never recover), you haven’t got it wrong. It’s OK to have your own personality and tastes, and to make your own assessment about how many layers are appropriate for the current climate.  Other people’s clothes should reflect what they like and what suits them, they shouldn’t be a source of anxiety for you. 

Life advice: Focus on the things you can control

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All of a sudden we’re a pair of Londoners who own a car. It’s been a while since I was behind the wheel so I’ve been a little nervous. Partly because this is London and people here aren’t exactly known for their patience, and partly because I’m in my thirties now and a lot more aware of the vast array of things that could kill me than I was when I was younger.

But I read something this week that’s helping me build my confidence – in the car and elsewhere.

My brother bought me Derren Brown’s book ‘Happy’ for Christmas. (That I have been to see DB several times and am a huge fan of his always comes as a surprise to people, so SURPRISE, I love a good mind game). The book’s about how we can reframe the way we think in order to feel happier. I’m already pretty content, but I also spend a disproportionate amount of time worrying about what people think and the range of ways in which I’m failing, so I’ll take any help I can get.

It was this part that made me stop in my tracks and which I’ve found myself referring to ever since. Two lists – the things we can control, and the things we can’t:

It’s obvious when you see it written down, and yet so easy to forget when you’re busy or stressed or running low on self-esteem. He also suggests saying to yourself “It’s fine” when somebody does something that you don’t like but can’t change, to stop you from dwelling on the wrong things. (This obviously doesn’t apply in the face of crime/injustice; it’s for more small-scale, day to day irritations.)

When you realise what’s within your control, life becomes easier to handle. You can control what you say, but you can’t control how people respond. You can tell what you believe to be the funniest joke you’ve ever come up with, but you can’t control whether anybody will laugh at it, or if doing so will make them like you (heartbreaking, I know). You can be a super polite person who says please and thank you and excuse me may I sit down on that chair currently occupied by your bag? But you can’t stop people sighing like their possessions are more deserving of a seat than you are. You can only ever be you.

The more you adopt this way of thinking, the more you find yourself at each moment of the day spotting the things that you can and can’t do anything about. A bus driver flashed his lights to let me pull out of my driveway today, but when I was about to set off I saw that the bus was still moving so I stopped. The driver mouthed “GO ON THEN” and did a little angry-looking wave. I felt like a dickhead for a second until I remembered – I made a decision based on what I thought. How he responded was up to him. Previously I’d have gone over and over this but now I feel better equipped to prioritise what I should worry about. Make all the facial expressions you like, my friend, my judgment is all I’ve got.

You also can’t control the state that you find somebody in in any given situation – nor can you be expected to somehow know everything about them in advance. Their past, their fears, whether they’re hungry or tired or sad, if they’ve got a cold or a headache or a nasty itch on their back that just won’t go away. All you can do is try to be nice and fair and perhaps guide them to the nearest tree to use as a scratching device. Every time I remember that the way people behave ALWAYS has a billion times more to do with them than it does me, I feel a lot calmer.

When you’re reading a book you think you’ll remember every part forever, but then you move on to the next one and the next one and the memory starts to fade. So I’ve written this down to make sure I don’t forget, and because sharing bits of advice I’ve picked up about how to feel more confident has become a big part of what this blog is about, and I like that.

I hope you find this useful, but, of course, how you respond is very much up to you.