Big Changes Afoot

 I started this year with a big change, the only change that I thought possible this year.  I moved into a new home with my boyfriend.  A house that would be ours.  To create new memories.  A new chapter.  It was to be the start of the rest of our lives together and still is.

But it appears that the world of change was not done with me yet.

I have worked for the same company since I was 18 years old.  Over 25 years ago, over half of my life.  I grew into an adult with that firm.  They saw the many stages in my life, the way that I grew and the various iterations of the person that I would eventually become.

People came and people went over the years, but generally it was a firm that people stayed with and some I have known for as long as I have been there.

But as everything does, things changed; certainly over the past couple of years.  The firm was bought out and the company that I knew, changed.  The soul of the firm was different.  Everyone feels it.  Suddenly, the thought of working elsewhere crossed my mind.

It was not just the change of the guard, it was other things too.  The person I had worked with for so longer was coming towards retiring.  I had moved departments with him a few years ago and the cases that we now deal with are traumatic.  The type that you take home at night.  That torment you. 

Last week I was approached by another firm, offering me a new job.  A new department, more money and a security that I felt was slipping away at my current firm.  At my age, an opportunity that I could not ignore.

So I went for an interview.  

Without telling you what I do,  I can tell you that people who want to do, actually do, my job are rare.  They don't want to be that busy.  They see it as a stepping stone.  They see it as something that you move on from.  

I am a lifer when it comes to what I do.  I am good at it and I enjoy it.  My aspirations in life are work to live, not live to work.  This is rare in my field.  As such, finding someone like me who wants to stay and commit is rare.  Sought after.  Something I didn't actually understand, until I went to the interview.

I was offered the job.

Yesterday, after much deliberation, soul searching and a lot of worry, I decided to accept and handed my notice in.

Is it the right decision?  For me, now, yes.  Will it be the right decision in the long run?  I hope so.  Only time will tell.  What finally clinched my decision however was the realisation that if this new job went south, would I want to go back to my current job and the answer was no.  

I have loved my current job and moving away from it will be hard and strange and new.  But I have changed so much over the years.  I have grown and the person who started at the firm all those years ago is not me anymore.  I am ready for a new challenge.

Another new chapter.  That is two this year.  Wish me luck!

When Older Men Hit On You - What I Needed to Hear at 15

I just saw a post on Reddit that made me pause, and remember.

The question was "Women who were hit on by grown men when you were a teenager, what did you do?"  The girl asking the question was 15 years old.

The one thing that men will never understand is how this feels when you are a young girl.  Your whole world changes, forever.  It is the moment your childhood ends because you realise that you are no longer safe.  You can no longer dance carefree through the world as you used to.  It does not change in one day, it happens incrementally.  The rules that will change you and cage you appear so very quickly.

I hit puberty early and started to develop breasts when I was 11.  

I used to go to a park very close to our home which had swings, a roundabout and a slide.  I used to like going to play there when I was younger and even at 11/12 I would still go there, on my own, swinging around on the roundabout with a book.

That particular day, while happily sitting on the roundabout, a group of older boys turned up.  They were probably 15 years old.  They started to talk about me.  "Look, she's got tits already!".  They could see I was still so very young.  They came closer to me, asking me if they could touch them.  I ran away home and thankfully nothing more happened.

There was an awkwardness, a lack of understanding and some fear about that day.  But it was explained away as silliness of older boys and not to worry about it.  Although with a warning perhaps not to go there alone again.  

Don't go out on your own, it isn't safe.

I started to notice that adult me were starting to treat me differently.  At first I brushed it off until I started to recognise the signs.  The way they spoke to you was different.  Not like you speak to a child.  Almost flirting.   But subtly.  It was the look in the eyes that did it.  The way they would tell me I was so pretty and that all the men would be after me soon.  With a certain look in their eyes.  The way they pressed just that bit closer than I was used to, than I felt uncomfortable with.

Back then, I  did not understand their intentions, but I knew that something had changed and I did not like the way they looked at me.  The way they stepped that little bit closer to me.  I felt like a rabbit being eyed by a fox.

Be careful with adult men.

The older I got, the more developed I looked, the more this came to happen.  Some men, even men I had known as a child looked at me in a different way.  Like I was a woman.  Except I wasn't.  By the time I was 13 my fellow male pupils started to notice my shape too.  The size of my breasts gained me a nickname at school, which I won't share here.  There was also a presumption that I was "up for it", purely based on that my breasts were large.

Cover up or you are asking for it.

Over time, as we all do, I learned how to get away from the older men and deal with them.  Boys were a a different story and the lessons of how to deal with my peers look far longer.

That is the advice that I shared on the Reddit post.

 I went through this. From 12. Be strong is the first thing. It can be hard and they can be persistent. I will tell you what I used to do, which worked generally.

Say loudly "You do know I'm only 15 right? Then walk away.

If you are stuck in the conversation or the room with the man, say at a family party or something, look at him direct in the eye and say to him in a normal tone "This isn't the way you should be speaking to a 15 year old. Leave me alone". Then walk away.

If you are in public, go up to the nearest woman and tell her what he is doing/saying. She WILL look after you. I never had a woman walk away from me. Because we have all been there.

Be strong OP. Look them in the eyes when you say the above to them. Make them feel as uncomfortable as they did to you.

Looking them in the eye was definately the key for me. Making them understand that I knew what they were doing and that I knew that he knew that how he was behaving was wrong.

Sometimes if I was at a gathering or party where I knew other women, I would repeat what the man had said to me to the nearest woman. "Hey Aunty June, Bob thinks I should go out on a date with him, what do you think?"

I was strong because I had to be. But there are things that I wish that I could tell that 15 year old girl now.

• Your worth does not go up and down depending on what you look like.
• If he is over 5 years older than you and he is flirting with you, do not trust him.
• It is not "cool" if an older men is flirting with you, no matter how attractive he is. He is a predator.
• If someone does something bad to you, TELL SOMEONE. It is not your fault.
• You will be ok, I promise.

What would you tell your 15 year old self?

An Ode to (the Old) Sex and the City

I preface this post by saying that when I write about Sex and the City, I am only talking about the series and the two films for the purposes of this post.  I just can't talk about "And Just Like That".

I remember when Sex and the City came across my screen in the 1999.   

Many people did (and still do) say that the show was purely about sex and shoes.  Fluff content.  True enough there is a lot of sex and shoes in SATC.  But there is also something much more in the characters of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda that represent many women.

 

I saw something in each of those women that represented myself.  Things I was and things that I wanted to be but also, I saw my imperfections in them too.  That was the important part.  They were not perfect.  Far from it.  But I could identify with each of them in different ways.

 

I saw four completely different people, four friends, that were soulmates.  The four of them combined made one beautiful whole.  A friendship that would last forever and through anything.  A constant in each other's lives, forever.

 

First there was Carrie with her writing, her distinct sense of style and the men in her life.  Several men throughout the series, but she knew as did we, the one that would always have her heart.  Mr Big.  The One.   Carrie could also be self centred and more than a little self absorbed at times.  

 

I wanted to write like her, I lived vicariously through her sense of style that I would never come close to and I understood completely that once your heart is taken, you never really get it back.  I was lucky with that last one.

 

But also, I am also a little self centred and a little self absorbed.  I recognise it and try to work on it.  But it was nice to see a lead character portrayed as less than perfect.

 

I also saw myself in Charlotte.  Charlotte who wanted nothing more than to fall in love and marry.  Charlotte was also a little spoiled and thought nothing of giving up her successful career to be a stay at home wife, although with Trey, she had not thought this through.  The typical rich bitch, except Charlotte was not a bitch.  I’m not sure she would ever say the word, except in whisper.  But she believed in true love, real love, and the right “one”.  That definitely is me.

 

Then we have Miranda,  I could see so much of myself in Miranda too.  Despite her successful career, she had so many insecurities.  She pushed men away, especially Steve, until she realised, almost when it was too late, he was the one.  (Actively ignoring the new Miranda in the new series. That is not Miranda).

She was never without an opinion, even through her insecurities, which was brought out more in her by her friends.  She blossomed in those friendships.  She learned from them and with them and also learned to trust and love with Steve.  Miranda's journey to let down her walls, trust and love was something that I understand and have lived. 

 

Finally, Samantha.  I never wanted to be Samantha or aspire to her love for bed hopping.  But I appreciated her.  I loved her.  

Samantha was the best friend of all of them.  The better friend.  I feel she loved the rest of them the most.

 

I loved how unapologetic Samantha was.  She was beautiful and acknowledged it, but in a manner of fact way rather than boastful.  She had a great career and she knew what she wanted (and nearly always got it).  Her life may not be one that many of us would choose in the relationship department, but the thing about Samantha was that she was never anything but completely herself, making up her own rules.  I admired that.

 

“I love you, but I love me more”.  While those are not words you would hear from me, it is important that we love ourselves too.

 

Over the 6 seasons (was it really only 6?) you got to know these women inside and out.  You knew their characters, their strengths, their flaws and their weaknesses.  You got to know them so well that you could anticipate what each of them would do.

 

Carrie, that she would always and forever, belong to Big.  Wherever her path led her, it would always find its way back to him.

Charlotte, that she would do anything for love, even convert to another religion.

Miranda, that she was clever enough (eventually) to realise and tell Steve that she loved him.  That she didn’t have to be alone.  That she could rely on another person.

Samantha, that she would move heaven and earth for a friend, maybe not for a man.

What they have done to Sex and the City with the reboot of And Just Like That is ruin it.  Because they changed the people that they were.  Miranda most of all.  I watched the first season and I did not recognise the woman that I knew and had resonated with.  It was, quite simply, a betrayal.

I understood what the Star Wars fans were talking about with the reboots killing what they have grown up with and loved.  I went into and through my adulthood with those four women and the changes they made to their characters and the choices that they made, was wrong.   For what?  Money.

At least Kim Cattrell had the integrity not to join in, although I also cannot blame her for the apparent phone call they had I believe in the second season.  That must have been some pay off.

So I will keep my heart with the original series and not watch any of the new series.   The women I knew are no longer there.

Lessons Learned

 I’ve been learning a lot recently.  Both about who I am, why I am the way I am and also the root causes of that.  As always when you are on a journey like this, there are ups and downs.  Happy surprises and also, disappointments.

One of the lessons that I am learning is that there is no perfect person, and everyone has had something in their life that can carry on to the next generation, or can be taken out on the next generation; if you let it.

When someone hurts you, or wants to hurt you, there is often a reason behind that, that has nothing to do with you.  They are choosing to take it out on you, you are the target and the focus of their actions; but the root cause lies elsewhere.

Sometimes, certainly on the journey that I am on, understanding the root cause of the other person’s pain, can help to heal your own.

You may not ever forgive them, but you don’t always have to forgive.  You may not ever forget.  But, you can understand where they came from and what formed their behaviour.  And you can choose not to make their mistakes.

This can apply to many people, in all aspects of your life.

The lessons that are the hardest to learn are those when the person hurting you or hurt you in the past is a loved one or someone you know well.  Because a loved one is the person that you turn to.  They should not be the one that has caused you harm.

When this happens, you think to yourself over and over “What did I do wrong?  Why do they treat me this way?”  “Why don’t they love me?”  The answer that you seek however is often not the most obvious one.

I spent years analysing and trying to move on from the pain that was caused to me.  But I was only dealing with the effect of those words and actions against me.  Not the cause.  Because I did not know the cause.  The root of the issue, that had nothing to do with me.

I reached a point where the actions no longer hurt me, but I finally wanted answers.  I wanted to know why.  I was ready to face it.  I had reached, finally, the stage of anger.  Anger is not usually a good emotion, but in my case, it forced me to re-examine everything and the person that I was angry at.

What I realised was that their actions, however hurtful, however horrible, did have a root cause.  An explanation as to why they were the way they were.

I won’t talk further here as I do not want to go into my history.  But learning to understand them, what experiences they had had that made them the way they were, put everything together like a jigsaw puzzle.

I learned to understand that forgiveness is not possible sometimes because forgiveness is not always deserved.  But understanding the why, was the key to healing.  The key to moving on.  

Furthermore, in understanding them and their actions more clearly, this gave me an understanding as to myself.  My own reactions to their actions.  The way I had set up my life as a result.

What I realised is that I do not need to do that anymore.  I understand now.  I can move on, lead my life and be who I really am.  Also, I can build a better relationship with them.  Because now I see some of myself in them, but I am not destined to repeat history.  I have chosen not to.  I am like them. But I am not them.

I can finally be, myself.

The Decrease of Women Wanting Children

 I saw a video recently in which a man proposed that more and more women wanted to have children, but were forced or felt like they had to get an education, get a job/career and prioritise that over having a family.

I talked recently about whether modern man were struggling to live with and have a relationship with the modern, empowered women.  What I said in that post I believe ties in to this question.

Is there is decrease in the amount of women who want children?  If you look at statistics, that answer would indicate yes.   But, statistics do not show context. 

Up until the last few decades, the question of whether you were going to have a husband and a child  was not so much of a choice, but an expectation.  Regardless of whether you worked on or, this was a presumption.

How many women went into marriage or a relationship actually wanting children and how many just did it because that was the norm?

Traditionally, women who chose not to have a husband and a family were ridiculed.  They were called old maids or spinsters.  “Left on the shelf” is certainly a phrase that I heard, even well into the 2000s.  In some places, this way of thinking is still in place.

An unmarried man has always been called a bachelor, a woman earns the title of spinster when she reaches an age where society believes that she should have married and had children, but didn’t.  She is then an old maid.  Left on the shelf.  As if she were an item to be bought in a shop.

The ability to use contraception solved problems for many women who did not want a child and wanted to prevent from doing so/were unable to care for another child etc.  But even when contraception was brought in, there was still the expectation that a woman would want to have a child.  That it was the female default setting.  That simply is not the case for all women.

So the question of has been a decrease in the number of women who want children is both yes, and no.  Because until the past few decades, the women who didn’t want children, who didn’t see themselves as being a mother; ended up being a mother anyway.

Let us not forget also the number of women who are on the fence about having children.  That they would be happy if it happened, happy if it didn’t.  Or those who want children, but want to do so once they have accomplished other things in their life first.  Education, career etc.

It is the women in the above two categories who are also affecting the statistics of the number of women who want children.  More so (I believe) than the women who know from an early age that they do not want to conceive.

As I talked about in my previous post, women have so many more options now than a simple goal or expectation of being a wife and mother.  Many women still want this, but they want (and are entitled to) a standard that was not afforded to women before them.

Some want an established career before they become a mother.  Others may want a child/are on the fence; but are wary.  I do not believe that this is because women are worried that they cannot care for a child, it is more because they are worried about losing themselves in the role.  Worried that their participation in the child’s upbringing and the house chores/cooking etc levels will be far in excess of their partner.

This is not an unreasonable expectation.

I am in the camp of “never wanted to have a child”.   Thankfully because of contraception, I do not have one.

But for those that do or those that are undecided, they are right to have those reservations.  They do not want to fall into roles of being the primary parent and primary person to take of and run the household, whilst also working.  

They do not want to become stay at home mothers, only for them to be the sole person taking care of the child/household when their partner’s only contribution is working and take out the bins once a week with zero evening/weekend participation.

They also do not want to have a child with someone, only for that person to change their mind or decide to leave the relationship, leaving sole care of the child to the woman, some of whom then struggle to get child support from the father.   

They do not want to become single mothers, a person who has always, and still is, looked down on in society.   Single mothers have always been named called.  From whores to scroungers.  Despite, as we know, it taking two people to make a baby.

These worries are real and valid.  Not all men by any means are going to be the kind of man that women need to worry about in situations such as above.  Many will participate fully in the home and upbringing of their children.  The majority will not disappear from their children's lives.

But there are enough men that do not meet these basic expectations, basic levels of what you can expect from a partner to worry women.  

Women who have worked for and have been given the advantages fought for by women generations before them, lives of their own.  Rights of their own.  An identity outside of simply being a wife and mother.

In short, we do not want to go back.

So yes, birth rates and the number of women wanting to/having children are decreasing.  Because until we get to a place in society where an equality of participation is the norm, birth rates will decrease, and divorce rates will increase.

We can do better and we have the tools to be able to do so.  Men and women.  All of us. 

The Modern Relationship

 

I saw a quote the other day:

“The past few decades have taught women to empower themselves, but have not taught men how to live with those empowered women”

This made a lot of sense to me.  

Over the past one hundred years, women’s rights have improved in many ways.  As a result, our way of thinking, what we believe that we can achieve and what we are prepared to put up with, has changed.

We now have our own bank accounts, can own property, can vote, have rights to our own bodies (excluding the US in that one for obvious reasons) and have our own money.   We can have careers in fields we choose, we can have a life outside of the home; we can be stay at home mothers (but only if we wish to be).  We no longer need rely on a man for our existence through life.  We can fund ourselves.  Educate ourselves.  Be a whole person outside of the "wife and mother".

In short, we now have the freedom to choose, for ourselves, what kind of life we want.

This is not a “but what about the men post”.  But it is worth pointing out that whilst women have moved forward, evolved; (some) men have not.

Some of these men still see women as the mother, the person who takes care of the chores.  The person in charge of the home.   They see the 1950s as “the perfect time in history”.

What these men fail to realise that women have always worked.  Whether it be in factories, as nurses, secretaries, teachers, cooks etc.   However.  In addition to these jobs, women were also expected to fully take care of the home and take care of the children.  They were in fact doing two jobs.  The “second shift”.  Their weekends were not time off work, they spent them taking care of the home and the children while their partners, well, didn’t.

This “perfect” time of the 1950s was when the stay at home mother was a prevalent thing.  But was it perfect for women?  Some.  Of course.  But was it a life that many wanted?  No money of their own, no freedoms and a life that was 24/7.  They were always on call.

But was this “perfect time” even accurate?  Because studies show us that around 45% of working age women were in fact working in the UK.   In the US, that figure was around 32%, or 18.4 million women.  Not a small amount.

The men that see this as a perfect time in history do so because they see women as lesser than themselves.  They want a bang maid who they can control through money and power.  I do find it amusing however that many of these men who claim they want a “traditional woman” now also expect them to pay their own way, pay half the bills.  They want it all.

But let us put aside the misogynists.  We know of them.  But they do not make up all men.

Countless studies, as well as what we hear from women day to day, is that the split of work/home/chores/children is in no way balanced.  Despite women also doing a full time job, they are also doing the majority of household cleaning, cooking and childcare.  This includes being the default parent when it comes to the child falling ill and a parent needing to take time off to be with them.

Women now contribute financially to the home.  They have their own money.  They are no longer the default homemakers.  What they want, what they deserve; is an equal or percentage based contribution to the home.    

No home life is ever going to be perfectly 50/50.  Life does not work that way.  But if you both work the same kind of hours, you should be splitting cleaning, cooking, children equally.  Obviously if one parent is working more hours, you adjust accordingly.

But why have things not changed?  Why are women still doing more?

I would say that the first men to realise that there had been a change were millennial men.  But even then, I see husbands who think that changing the odd nappy, mowing the lawn in summer and taking out the rubbish every week is equal.  Is fair.  Yet these men seem to want recognition for doing what is the bare minimum.

Worse, some of them do a household chore with the expectation of getting something in return.  Like they are doing their partners a favour.

It seems to me that there is something innate in men, in their makeup, that sees women as the homemakers and men as the providers.  Regardless of how times have changed.  Because if you follow the trend that millennial men started to realise that they needed to contribute more than simply working, coming home and putting their feet up, then each generation of men should be doing more.  But that isn’t the case.

I used to work with a girl who thought that she had the perfect boyfriend (she is 25 and so they are Gen Z).  His mother had raised him to contribute to the chores in the home so she presumed that he would contribute to their own home equally.  But that was not the case.

After contributing well enough initially, things then started to go downhill.  He started to do less and less, even to the extent that he was leaving his clothes on the floor and his plates left on tables for her to clean up.  She could not understand why, having been raised how he was.

It is a story that I have read 100s of times, from women who are Gen X, right through to Gen Z.  Women are still doing more/the majority of chores, cooking and childcare, despite having full time jobs.  There is nothing less attractive than having to take care of a man like he is a child/one of your children.

Some of these women either face an outright refusal to do more, weaponised incompetence by doing a chore/simply task so badly that you will never ask again or them stating that they are happy to live in filth.

Not all men are like this.  Stay at home dads are a thing and more men are doing their fair share.  So it is possible.

But with so many men not contributing equally, this is turning women away from relationships and can also be a reason for divorce.  A woman does not want to have sex with a man who cannot fill out a form or make an appointment without his partner’s help and who cannot understand how a washing machine works.  She is not attracted to a man who thinks that doing the washing means putting the clothes in the washing machine and calling the job done or who cannot make himself a meal if she is not there to hand hold his every step.

I think that applied weaponised incompetence is worse than the excuse of “I don’t notice what needs to be done” or an outright refusal to contribute.  Because at least you know where you stand.  An outright expectation that you will do more because you are a woman.  You know where you stand.  How you choose to move forward with that is another thing.

When weaponised incompetence is applied, this is pure manipulation.  The dishes that don’t get put away because “I don’t know where they go”.  The laundry that gets ruined because “I didn’t know what setting”.  The children who don’t get fed breakfast because “I don’t know what they eat”.  These men know exactly what they are doing.  Manipulation until you give up and do the job yourself.

Another thing that I see some men say is that “I wasn’t taught how to do x, y and z and you do it better.  You were taught”.

Frankly, this is bullshit.  I was not raised to do much in the way of chores, laundry or cooking.  I taught myself when I moved out.  In an age where Google and Youtube is at your fingertips, anything can be learned.  I myself used Google, Youtube and TikTok (yes, Tiktok!) to teach myself how to cook.

In my own relationship, we work on percentages.  We do the things we like more and if we both don’t like a task, we split it equally.  I do not feel taken advantage of.    When I get home from work, I do not have to clean up from his day and when I come home to a job done that I was expecting to do, it is wonderful.

I heard someone say once that while women want a relationship, men need a relationship.  I believe this to be true.

Because we can look after ourselves financially.  We can entertain ourselves.  Our homes are cleaner when men who (not all…) do not contribute and make a mess, are not there.  If the woman feels like she is having to be the mother of her partner, she no longer has to stay because she has no means of supporting herself.

So back to my original quote about men having not learned to live with empowered women.  This appears to be true.  Because the reality is, the men that do not contribute, no longer get relationships or marriage.  They often find themselves divorced.

But the fact of the matter is that men do not need to learn how to live with empowered women.  What they need to do is move away from thinking that the women’s sole purpose is to be the homemaker.  The mother.  The house manager.  Their second mother.

They can do it, and do when they have to.  When no women is around men are able to feed and clothe themselves and look after children if they become a single father or share joint custody.  Because they have to.

So the answer, simply, maybe is to think of a woman like they do a man.  Their equal, not their lesser and not their home help.

I Can See Clearly Now

I feel that I have been running a very long race.  The race of my life.  Now, I can almost see the finish line ahead and I am both excited, and scared.  It is really the finish line?  Or a mirage?  Are there more unseen obstacles ahead?

My road has been a long one.  Going from my teenager years and thenwhen I was 20, I had the worst period of depression of my life.  A time where I could find no hope, only pain.  A pain that I could not escape from and in truth, for a time there, I wanted to die.  It was the only way I could see out of unimaginable pain.  How this went on for, I no longer truly know.  Months, definately, a year?  Probably.

The only way I have been able to describe the level of emotional pain I felt each day, is equating it to the moment I was told my dad had died.  That immediate, surge of pain, before grief, before taking it in.  I do not exaggerate when I say this, nor would I compare the two lightly.

It was during this time however that I somehow found my inner strength.  A voice inside of me that shouted no.  You are stronger than this.  A voice so strong, so clear that it stopped me in my tracks.  Take that as you will.

I will admit that my whole twenties were a mess.  I had learned to withhold what I felt.  Not show my pain.  Not show the outside world the carnage that was on the inside.  I had no voice.  No opinions.  I was surviving, not thriving as my twenties should have been.  I had learned that no one really wants to see the bad inside, the hurt.  They wanted a smile.  So that is what I gave them.

There was one in particular whom I could have shared my thoughts with.  She would have been there for me, and indeed very much was, for the parts that she did see.  But I was too scared.  I didn’t want to lose her, even though deep down, I knew that I wouldn’t.   I wish that I had.  I could and do still trust her completely.  She is a forever friend.  She knew me before I hit rock bottom.  The real me. 

It has taken me so long to find that person again.

I started writing properly when I hit my thirties and I started to slowly evacuate the ghosts in my head.  

This whole blog was created in order to work on my self confident, my self image and my self worth.  I came so far, achieving things that I never thought that I would be able to accomplish.  From the small steps of changing what I wore from all black to colour, to going to events by myself in London and sharing a picture of myself in a swimsuit.  I talked about confidence until I started to find it for myself, and even received an email once from a woman telling me that my journey had inspired the start of her own.

I have my faults, but what I do have is determination and stubbornness (I appreciate that the latter can be a fault too!).  I am slow to change, but when I do, I make a very large jump.  I have always been this way.  I have always strived to be better.  To heal.  But my roadmap was more like a very complicated squiggle than a straight line.

I found Twitter which helped me find my voice and I found others who were lost and on their way to becoming found.  I felt myself coming alive.

By my mid thirties, I realised that my efforts to hide what I felt from the world had gone too far.  I had become so good at masking that I had convinced myself that my fake smile was real.   

I remember the day so clearly.  I was walking the dog, the sun was out and it was gloriously warm.  I remember suddenly realising that I felt happy; I was enjoying the day and was looking forward to an evening out with friends.  But I could actually feel those feelings.  It was both wonderful, and terrible.  Because it that moment I realised just how long I had not truly felt.  Over a decade.  I always felt the sad emotions, but the good ones had been lost to the mask I wore every day.

It wasn’t until I met my partner a couple of years later that that changed.  I had someone who could see all of me.  Every emotion.  Every feeling.  And they loved all of me.  Every single bit.  I have never felt loved like this in my life.  So seen.  So wanted.

I gained self confidence a while ago now, but the lesson of self worth has been much, much harder.   

It doesn’t matter how much someone tells you that you are worth it.  That you are worthy of love.  That you matter.  You have to believe it yourself.

A couple of weeks ago, things finally started to fall into place and I found my self worth that had been lost to me for so long.  I unburied the last of the things hidden and locked away in my mind.  I confronted face on the reasons why I lost it.

So here I am today.  I am starting counselling in a few weeks.  This I truly believe will help me with the tools I need to move forward.  Move on.  Not forgetting, but not letting my past rule my future.

I have changed my mind whilst writing this post.  I am excited.  I am no longer afraid.  I look forward to the bright future in front of me.  I intend to celebrate every single minute.  

To the Man Who Killed My Dad

A letter I will never send.  I would not know where to send it.  I am not sure I ever would if I did.

Hello Gavin,  

Where do I start?  

You don’t know me.  I don’t know you.  We have never met.  But we are linked, forever.  

All I really know about you is that in August 1987 you were seventeen and driving a fast car when you crashed into my dad on the motorway, taking his life away from him.  Taking him away from me and my family.

The incident was your fault.  You were charged was driving without due care and attention, which sounds ridiculous when you did in fact take a man’s life away.  But I cannot change that.  It feels wrong.   Even now.

I was 8 years old the day my father died.  My childhood, my life, was unequivocally changed forever by your actions.  I hated you.  I felt that way for so many years.  Can you really blame me?

You were the demon in my dreams who took my dad away from me.  The man who loved me so much.  The man who read me stories on a Sunday morning and brought me surprises on a Friday night.  The man that I still miss so much, decades later.  In my eyes, for a long time, I thought that you should have been rotting away in prison, suffering.  As much as we suffered.  

I am in my 40s now.  I have lived through much and have come to some realisations and understandings.  One of them is that hate solves nothing.  

Strange as it sounds, when entering into working life, I went into civil litigation.  Road traffic accidents.  Helping to bring claims against people like you who had caused accidents, damage, injury and death.  It was not a conscious decision that I remember making, but it is where I ended up.

These days I work with far tougher cases.  Cases of historical abuse.  The worst you can imagine.  It has changed me in many ways.  I went through a lot because of your actions but nothing compared to those I speak to on a daily basis.  I have learned from those people about moving on.  Acceptance.  Perspective.

You were seventeen.  I know how easy it is to make a stupid mistake.  Especially at that age.  You made a very big mistake that day.  A huge one.  One that took a life.  A life that you did not intend to take.  

You did not set off that day intending for things to happen in the way that they did.  But they did.   You did “borrow” your girlfriend’s sports car.  Which you were not insured to drive.  You did drive too fast and lost control.  You did hit my dad’s car.  You did kill him.

None of us are the same people we were at seventeen, at twenty, at twenty five even.  I know I am not.  I want to think that you changed too.   That the recklessness of that day and the effects of your actions, changed you.

You will always have what you did that day over your head.  That first mistake of taking the car, that snowballed into death.

I cannot imagine what it is to know that you have done that.  All that I can imagine, all that I hope, is that the gravity of what happened taught you some lessons and you lived your life in a better way.     Probably not right away.  Because you were, no doubt, in shock too.  You were too young for something so serious.  

I don’t hate you anymore.  Hate is a hard thing to hold on to in your soul and eats away at you.   Now I can put myself in your shoes and feel sorry for you, in a way.  You made a mistake.  You have had to live with that mistake every day.  That has to be hard.  Your life altered forever, just as mine did.  

I don’t owe you anything Gavin, I certainly don’t owe you forgiveness.  But I do forgive you.  I forgive you for the mistake you made.  Because by forgiving you, I can let go of the hate.  I understand now that the stupid actions and decisions you made as a teenager do not make you a bad person.  An evil person.    You were someone who made a bad choice.  

I do hope that you were truly sorry for what you did.  You never said that you were sorry, we spoke to your insurance company, not you.  But again, you were seventeen and had just killed someone.  I get it.

You did take a life, but I hope that you managed to deal with that and make something good of the rest of your life.  

Goodbye Gavin.  I won’t think of you anymore, writing this has been helpful.  I don’t wish you happiness, but I don’t wish you sadness anymore.  I am done.

Victoria 

Be a Lady They Said, But What Do They Mean?

Be A Lady They Said, But What Do They Mean?

A few years ago now there was a viral video of Cynthia Nixon reading a poem from Camille Rainville “Be A Lady They Said”.

For me, and for many women, it struck the perfect chord about the impossible and every changing standards that women face. Society it seems, some men in particular (not all men yada yada), seem to have no idea not only what they want from women; but also what label to put on us. Something that they desperately want to do. Why are labels so important? Because labels put you in a box. It is an element of control. The 21^st century's version of the Scold's Bridle.

Only a few decades ago, in the Western world, it was easy to put women in a box. Child, wife, mother, spinster, fallen woman, whore. Fallen woman, what does that even mean? A search on Wikipedia tells us that a fallen woman is someone who has lost her “innocence”. What is never mentioned, is who took it.

In countries like Saudia Arabia, Iran and Iraq, women are still firmly in the boxes men want them to be. A woman's testimony is worth half of a man's. If a woman is raped, it takes two male witnesses for her to be believed.

Male rights activists love to point out to feminists that women have it so much worse in those countries and of course, this is true. They say that we should be grateful. Such a strange word, grateful. What it is, is a silent threat. “We did it to you once, be grateful that we don't do this now”.

Yet, in the case of Harvey Weinstein, it took over 100 women for just 2 to be believed. With every single woman who went public being called a whore in the press, someone who gained from the “casting couch”, a gold digger. An attention seeker. Same with the conviction of Bill Cosby.

CPS figures in September 2021 showed that only 3.3% of all reported rapes ended in a conviction. Therefore, according to the stats published, out of 57882 rapes reported, only 1910 were believed and their rapists convicted. According to the readers of the Daily Mail, that makes nearly 56000 women liars. Whores. The highest rated comment was “too many false claims by bitter women”.

That so many think that women would put themselves through so much, going to the police, being examined, relieving and retelling the rape over and over, giving evidence in front of their rapist in Court for supposed “financial gain” or “bitterness” speaks volumes of what women are thought of in society.

A society that still lets a woman's underwear be paraded in open Court as as example of her intention to have sex that night.

Be a lady they said. But what does that even mean any more?

“ A lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets” was something I started to hear in the 1990s. The best of both worlds it was called. A “good girl” in public and your whore in the bedroom. This was in my teenage years and was treated as a joke in the most part. Teenage boys did not in general expect sex. Now, thanks to porn culture, the expectation on teenage girls is far different.

The case of the girl in Cyprus with the up to 12 men who raped her is a prime example. Time and time again I saw the same things said. She wanted it. It was regret sex. Women are whores. See the word that is used time and again?

What made men and boys think that a woman would ever want, court and enjoy a gang bang? Porn.

So what is wanted from women today? Simultaneously a virgin and a slut. Enjoy sex, but not too much you slag. Be more adventurous, but where did you learn that from you whore? Don't be promiscuous, but don't be frigid. Be a good girl, but do anal. You know you want it.

So how do women respond to this? How do we combat this? We fight back. We band together, as so many women did in support of the girl in Cyprus. We say our truth. We call out the cultures and generational beliefs that men have the right to give us the labels they choose. We don't stay silent.

We be the lady, or not, that we CHOOSE to be. We reject the labels. We ridicule those that would label us. We teach our daughters that our self worth is nothing that can be given or taken away from us. We teach them that our bodies belong to ourselves.

We reject the labels and choose our own. Or reject all labels. We are women. Our choices are our own and the ONLY person who can judge us for our choices.

Be whatever you want to be and do not let anyone influence that or change that. This is how we fight.

They cannot change those that refuse to change. They cannot label those who refuse to be labelled.

Cyber Crime: 5 Tips to Avoid Getting Hacked

 

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Your online security has never been more critical than it is now. With more and more people using online services and even more cybercriminals looking to exploit those living digitally, being able to stay safe when conducting digital activities should be paramount for everyone.

It's thought there is a hacker attack every 39 seconds, and falling victim to any type of hack, cyber threat, scam, or other criminal activity can have massive implications on your life. 

This post is going to look at some of the best ways you can protect yourself online to ensure you don't compromise your identity or safety.

Use A VPN

A vpn is a virtual private network that establishes a connection between you and a remote server. It allows you to border the internet securely and desire that none of your data is shared, be it your location, digital habits or anything else you get up to online.

However, it's important to know that while VPNs encrypt your data and offer you some levels of protection, they're not a complete security package on their own and are best used in conjunction with other measures for complete security and privacy online.

Update Software

Using outdated devices and software will leave you vulnerable to hacks and cyber attacks from people looking to exploit weaknesses in the software. Software updates allow developers to identify issues, fix them, and then roll them out to users to offer added protection and features.

Neglecting to keep your software updated, even your mobile phone software, can leave you at risk from threats that have been identified and viruses or malware that will take full advantage of these issues. Set your devices to accept automatic updates so you don't miss anything and are always up-to-date and secure.

Monitor Your Social Media Settings and Usage

Cybercriminals can glean a lot of information from your social media accounts. In the first instance, you need to go into each platform and check your settings. You want it locked down to private so you can limit who can access your accounts and what you share. You also want to make sure that you have a strong password and use additional authentication steps to help secure your account.

From here, you need to be mindful of what you share, too. For example, try not to update where you are in real-time and save tagging places or locations until you have left so people can't track you. Avoid connecting to third-party apps you don't know much about, as they are often used to mine data and will typically learn more about you than you realise. Avoid accepting friend requests from people you don't know or clicking links in messages pertaining to the platform itself, as generally, these are phishing scams, and as soon as you log in and enter any details, they have your account. Always delete the message and change your password by logging onto the social media site in your usual way.

Clear Your Cache

Never underestimate how much your browser collects during your time online. Your browser will save searches, cookies, search information and more from each session until you clear it.

You can use the browser setting to clear the data held by the browser and either completely delete it or choose which settings to delete. Or you can use Ctrl+Shift+Del to open up a dialogue that lets you choose what to delete and what to keep.

Passwords

If passwords are the bane of your life, then you need to rethink how you approach them. Your passwords are integral to the security of all of your online accounts. Even logging into your device needs a secure password so people cannot access all of your details.

Some top tips for secure passwords and password activity include

• Not using a saved password features in browsers.

• Using a password manager or store and suggest strong passwords

• Use a combination of lower and uppercase letters, numbers, and symbols in your password.

• Combine random three or four-letter words to create a password, e.g. helptimepull, as these will be harder to guess; add in random capital letters, numbers and symbols to make it more challenging still, for example, hElptImepUll258$ will add additional security to your account.

• Use different passwords (this is work; the password manager and generator come in handy) for different accounts.

• Change passwords regularly.

Staying safe online should be something that you pay attention to, and knowing what you can do and what to avoid will help you avoid common pitfalls associated with cybercrime and ensure that you make it as hard as possible for people to get a hold of your information or complete some of the more common online scams.

My End of Year Post

* This post was supposed to be written in the Christmas break, but I was having fun and spending some much need relaxation time with my boyfriend, family and friends and as such, this post has been delayed!

When I used to write frequently on this blog, I always did an end of year post.  A rounding up of the past year, what had happened, what I had learned and what I was taking forward.

This year has been quite the year.  Many ups, many downs.  Coming back to my writing now, I feel like an end of year post is fitting.

When looking back, it is easy to only look at the bad and fixate on that.  But I always think that it is important to counteract the bad with something good.  Even if it only what you learned from the experience.

We always grow from our experiences, good and bad.  It is up to us which way we grow and in what direction we choose to go.  Forward is the best direction of course, even if the path isn’t straight and looks long and winding.  Onwards and upwards is the trajectory that we always aim for, however we reach them.

So where do I start with 2023?

I learned many things in 2023. I learned (again) to grieve a loved one lost, my wonderful Uncle Jack.

I learned that some people who were in my life are capable of far worse than I ever imagined.

I learned that other people in my life are capable of being far greater and stronger than I ever knew.

I learned, or came at least to realise; that no amount of revenge will ever truly satisfy you, so why dwell on it. Karma usually finds it mark eventually.

I came to understand that I am not responsible for the actions of others or the hurt that they have caused myself and others. I now choose not to feel anger about the whole situation any more, because in reality all angers achieves is more pain and gives away your power to the person you are angry at. I refuse to give anyone control of my emotions. I want no part in that.

There was a lot to learn and process in 2023. But what about the good things? The kind that you don't need to learn from and understand. The fun stuff. The joy. Here was mine.

I moved into my second year of living together with my boyfriend and am still and continue to be utterly in love. I am forever grateful to whatever kind of kismet brought us together. He is perfect for me and I am so happy.

I went on three holidays last year including a stay in the beautiful village in Portmeiron and also ten days in Greece where I saw my wonderful friend get married.

I think perhaps the most important thing for me in 2023 is that I realised that I could, and wanted to plan ahead in my life. Wanted to think about future years, not just where I am now. That only comes with happiness, with security and knowledge that you are safe and secure enough in your life to do so.

There will be changes afoot in my life in 2024 and that is so exciting. I will let you know when they happen!

A Thank You To My Former Self

I talked recently about how many different versions of you there are and will be in your life.  A Thousand Different Women.

Of all the women I have been, there is one that I look back on with awe.  With gratitude.  She saved me.

When I am scared, when I think I don't have the guts, when I am sad, or lonely or lost; I think of her.  I am so far away from the girl I used to be, we are practically polar opposites, but our core remains the same.  I owe my life to her.  I have to honour the gift that she gave me.  That gift was my future.

I do not exaggerate when I say that my early twenties almost killed me.  I was falling down a deep hole of depression that I did not understand.  I wanted a reason for it, but in truth there was none.  At least not one that I could recognise back then.

I cried every day.  The pain I felt nearly consumed me and it felt like my soul was splitting in two.  I could see no way out and many times, I thought that it would be better if I were dead.  Nothing could be worse than this pain.

I would go out with friends at weekend and drink to escape it.  It worked, for a few hours at least, until I drank too much and the pain came back.

I never spoke to anyone about how I was feeling.  I was too lost.  Too afraid of telling my best friend, the only real friend I had back then.  What if she couldn't handle it?  What if my problems were too much?  Instead though, she got to see the times when the pain crept back in and I drank too much.  I should have told her.  I should have told someone.  But I didn't.  I suffered alone.

Sometimes I went out driving to try and clear my head.  It was on one of these drives that I passed a cliff road, not too far away from where I lived.  That night was the first night that I really thought about suicide.  Whether I should drive off that cliff.

I cannot remember how many times I went back to that place.  Three times, maybe four.  There was a sort of car park there.  I presume for people who went walking.  I would park up and sit in my car and sob.  I knew that this could not go on much longer.  I could not go on much longer.  The walls around me were crumbling.

My sadness had consumed me.  Nearly whole.  All that was left of me was a fragment, held together with pretense, sticky tape and a strong stubbornness to not to let anyone else see my pain.  

The last time that I drove to that car park, I had a plan.  I couldn't do this anymore.  I could not take the never ending pain.  I just wanted it gone.  Me, gone.  

I clearly remember driving faster as I got nearer to the cliff.   I had made my decision.  But then, as I neared the place, something deep inside me fought back.  A strength, a voice that seemed to surge from nowhere.    

No.  Don't you fucking do it.  I am not dying today.  No.  Pull the fuck over.

It was the strongest feeling that I had ever had, both then and since.  I knew that I had to live.  I did actually want to live.  I just didn't know how.

The black dog of depression had had me for so long, pinned down under its feet that I could not see a way out.  That day, I had felt that there was nothing left of me.  I was consumed.  Yet from nowhere, a tiny fragment of what was left of me, won the battle that day.  A new woman was arising out of my ashes.  She was strong.  She would fight for me.  And she did.  

I cannot say that my life became easier after that, or for many years after.  I still hid the worse parts of me in the shadows.  Still hid the pain.  But something had changed.  I knew that there was a strength in me.   A strength so powerful that it stopped me dead (pardon the pun) in my path of destruction.

Over the years I had fought many battles with the black dog, sometimes taking many steps forward, sometimes a stagger or two to the side.  But I had never stepped back again.

Perhaps this is why that I always refer to myself as being different versions, different women throughout my adult life.  Because there have been many versions of me, many that I could not identify with now, or even understand.  But each version of me has been important.  Another step to the person I am today.  Someone who is whole.  Someone who is happy.  I am no longer lost.  I am found.  Found by myself and found by the man in my life who loves me.  All of me.  It is the “all” part that was the final healing peace of my soul.

I have already fought the battle for my life.  I won.  The sadness and pain that consumed me back then will never do so again.  Because I have built the foundations of my soul back together.  I have healed.  I have grown.

It is stems back and is thanks to the part of me, that version of myself that stepped up and said no.  Not today.  Don't you dare.  She is still in me.  I will never forget her.  I am live today because of her.