Posts Tagged self

Look!

Another post from Lockdown UK. Here I am, dressed basically as I work from the sofa. I can’t remember when I last wore makeup. What’s the point? Thoughts that I suspect are familiar to many of us right now.

BUT I’ve just dyed my hair for the first time since last July – and I feel like Me again!

Every time, it’s a question. Do I bother? Is it finally time to let my natural hair show? Well, several inches of growth and once again, I’m reminded that I really don’t like it (not silver enough yet!).

I’ve always had issues with how I look. Always. From years of pageboy haircuts to years of braces, never really understanding what I looked good wearing and then being mocked for wearing what I liked…

Only as an adult did I really discover what felt good to/on me. I love colourful hair, but prefer goth style with splashes of bright. Pastels: NO. I have many leather jackets, which double as armour when in cities or crowded places. And of course, I have my Druid Drag of robe and cloak, plus relevant jewellery.

I’ve seen the extremes of lockdown life, with one group dressing up to play at home and make beautiful social media art. The other stays in comfortable clothing, makeup-free, minimal effort. I’m obviously the latter.

But this year, in Lockdown 3.0, I’ve become what feels like unhealthily insular. The ups and downs of mood haven’t helped, as I feel very self-aware when I go out, as well as not being able to exercise as much leaving me low. I don’t feel worthy of the effort; there’s no point, I can’t work miracles.

Recognising this may help to fix it. I’m slowly returning to ‘public’ work, which is a kick in the pants to sort myself out. I’m being inspired by those social media folks, friends and strangers, rather than overwhelmed by their skill.

Himself commented when I wore some jewellery the other day that it suited me. I took that thought and turned it around in my head: What is ‘me?’ Here, now, at this stage of life, with this shape and with practical needs?

A work in progress, as always. But returning my hair to its colourful best is a start (I’ll get the split ends sorted when I’m allowed again).

Writing this seems so vain in one sense, although I suspect it’s something many of us have thought about as we kick our heels at home. How playful can we be in such scary, mad times? Isn’t such a topic trivial? There’s bigger issues to worry about!

And yet self-care is high on the agenda, as we struggle to find what works in keeping us sane and moving.

I love seeing my friends dress up to go to the supermarket, or post cosy pictures with soft toys and hobbies. This is still who we are, even when we’re not putting on a Public Face for Work. I need to learn not to be ashamed of who I am, nor fear the mockery. I thought I’d got past that, but old demons resurface if given half a chance.

What am I doing? I’m exploring gently to see what pokes a head up from the ground this Spring.

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Wishes at Samhain

Years ago, when I was a first-year University student in London, a friend and I travelled into the city to explore. Most of the day was spent in the magical otherworld of Camden Market, but then we decided to head out to Highgate Cemetery.

We were disorganised Goths, though, and in those pre-Internet days, had no way to check times… so when we arrived, it was closed.

To this day, I have never been closer to it than this:

Years later, I’m working at home during a time when the world seems utterly crazy, and I think back to that day.

I think of those people stuck at home due to lockdown – or physical illness, social anxiety, any number of social ills. 2020 has been a year of confusion and fear. Those innocent happy days have been a pleasant memory.

I find myself wondering if/how I can recreate such times. I’m older and (possibly) a bit wiser. The world is still out there. We must tread with more awareness, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

I’m pondering what I can do, if/how I can overcome the challenges of 2020.

Samhain is imminent, so this seems timely. ‘Pagan New Year’ means looking back, but also forward, for me. I feel – I hope – that I’m moving from what can I do to combine again with what do I want to do. And then how can I achieve that?

Those University days were lessons in themselves, as we tested our boundaries, away from home for the first time in a strange, new place. I feel as if we’re doing that again this year, but within the new confines of safety measures. This isn’t play; this is serious. We’re isolated for the sake of the wider community (and news reports show how difficult many people find that).

I’ve always been aware of the needs of others, often to the detriment of my own (that’s another story). Testing my own wants, putting toes into the water of ‘Yes, this is something that I genuinely would like to do’ seems revolutionary, and immensely freeing.

I’m actively battling the depression, armed with recent hospital treatment and backed my loving family and friends. I feel hopeful and determined. Even in this year like no other, steps can be taken to move forward.

I would like to go walking in the woods. To explore the secret places, down tiny roads and hidden tracks.

I would like to spend time with those past, in cemeteries or historic buildings. Perhaps the catacombs under Nottingham or the stone circles of Derbyshire Peaks.

I would like to find a decent camera to record these moments, and practice my photography to capture and share.

And back home, as the cold days draw in, I would like to explore my creativity. Maybe to design something with yarn, to actually learn to sew…

I would very much like to add more words to the beginnings of my fiction. To write, so that I can take up challenges that come my way.

I would like to not be scared to do. To be as nervous but excited as I was on that long-ago day. To see where my feet – and my mind – take me.

Let’s make our wishes on this 2020 Samhain. Apart, yet together across the technological community. A deep breath, acknowledgement of limits but still honouring our dreams.

What are We Doing?

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Everyday Bravery

Many times in the past decade, I’ve been stared at. I’ve been asked why I’m dressed in a certain way, heard some (frankly ridiculous) jokes and generally been on the receiving end of some very visible confusion.

Mostly this is because I’m Out in Public wearing my ‘work clothes’ – robe, cloak, staff etc. But sometimes it’s when folk see my tattoos, or a particular t-shirt statement.

Going back even further, I was sometimes stopped when out and about because I was dressed all in black, including hair and trenchcoat. Apparently this was fine when one is a teenager, less so when an adult.

I have never understood how some people can accost a random stranger in public and berate them for how they look. Even light mockery. I learned to have a small smile on standby, so that I didn’t reply with something rude; that way, at least one of us is being polite.

But then years ago again, I quickly learned what was acceptable and what was not, through being openly laughed at and ridiculed when I failed to conform. I vividly remember wearing an outfit that I absolutely loved (a long hippy skirt and top, nothing too shocking) and rushing back to my room to change, blushing wildly, because of that terrible laughter before I even left the house.

I still don’t quite understand that, either. How wearing something that I absolutely love can cause such a negative reaction. How does this threaten people so badly? What harm does an unusual hair colour, period clothing or simply expressing yourself do?

Sometimes it’s a knee-jerk reaction, with no malicious intent. That’s (relatively) ok. Other times…

Apparently it’s my fault, of course. For daring to Go Outside not looking like everyone else. For not aspiring to that societal goal of Being Normal (whatever that means).

Which leads me to the times that I have called out to others in public.

I’ve told random goths how beautiful they look. I’ve run down the street after reenactors to compliment their efforts. It can be as simple as ‘I hope you don’t mind my saying, but you look fantastic.’

Nobody ever does mind this. There can be surprise, of course, at this unexpected woman complimenting them, but hey – it could be worse, right? See above for examples. And that’s not even mentioning when words become physical violence.

I see it on their faces as I approach. The mental ‘brace for impact’, the anticipation of a kick – and the surprise and pleasure when the interaction is actually safe and friendly.

I try to hold this in my mind when people approach me. I’ve often said how blessed I feel that the reactions to me are 99% positive (and 1% stupid). I’ve yet to be beaten up for my looks.

I know that I’m lucky in that respect. I hear the stories of trans folk who suffer by just being who they are in public. Goths beaten to death. Breastfeeding mothers verbally abused.

I see it all around, and feel it on my worst days. How dare I show my face. Anticipating that laughter again, the mockery, the judgement.

But I am trying to be brave as I grow older. To retort if safe to do so. Engaging with the speaker can be quite enlightening sometimes, as I explain what I’m about.

Other days, I don’t have the strength to do much except keep walking, with my head held up. That can be the hugest of victories. The naysayers didn’t win. The bastards aren’t grinding me down.

I actually feel it becoming paradoxically easier and more difficult as I grow older. Because while I care less what people think of me than I did as a youngster, I’m also aware that ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ is a Thing. Unfortunately. So I’m still exploring what I’m brave enough to do, day to day.

The world can be a scary place, of course. By walking my walk when I can, I try to shine a light for others. By affirming that folks look amazing just for being who they are and that I’m happier for seeing them doing their thing, can be a tremendously powerful act.

It’s not just about me, I know that. But when I’m stuck inside my head, with the world pressing loudly against me, standing up as Me, in my Truth, is a miracle. Sharing that validation with others is a gift that I hope I can always keep giving.

Go be You out there today, lovely friends. Know that I’m cheering you on.

This post is dedicated to all of those gorgeous people at Witchfest, with their finery and wonderful happy smiles, holding safe space for the community. I’m looking forward to wearing my new feathered hat in public too.

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Who Am I?

When asked who you are, what is your immediate response? Your name, your job, marital status, sexuality, hobbies… all the labels that make up that sense of Me.

In which case, my name is Cat, I’m a priest and author, married with two dogs and two cats, cis-female, into books and knitting. Also GSOH (Good Sense of Humour).

But that by no means tells you about who I am inside. The Me that looks out from my eyes, who writes these words and tries to convey (with varying degrees of success) what she means to all of you.

One of the things I’ve sought to actively explore in recent years is who I am. That’s a continuing mission in a way, one that we all share.

As children, our identities are malleable and mostly made up by our parents: those who buy our clothes, sort out our haircuts, tell us what we’re allowed to do and not do, and generally teach us about the world.

As teenagers, we may rebel against this, as we strike out more to find our own identities. We try on different looks, join social groups, follow musicians or sports teams. Community merges with personal identity, giving us a new sense of family through our friends, much of which is formed through schools (specifically, those we come into contact with every day).

When we reach adulthood – say, over 21 – we’re supposed to have figured it all out. Who we are, what we want to do. Job goals, relationships, family of our own. But it’s not that simple now, as the world changes and so many more options are open to us (or closed).

We have so much information now, it’s virtually impossible to remain disconnected from the events going on in the world. We may wish to actively engage, pushing for change, or quietly work behind the scenes on a local (or even familial) level.

As others listen to our opinions, we may find that we have more power than we ever knew before. What do we do with it? Even this blog may inspire someone – I see that in the comments and responses. My actions have weight, even if it seems right now that it’s just me tapping away on my laptop in my living room.

Lately, I’ve felt very disconnected. My new medications have made my thoughts fuzzy and unclear. I’ve made mistakes, got frustrated, stepped back a little. I’ve felt that I let folks down by being ill.

That’s not true, of course. I’ve stepped back because it’s been necessary. I’m still here, after all. Battling the annoyance that I can’t do everything I want to do right now!

We’re on the cusp of Spring. Which I didn’t notice until it was pointed out to me. The changeable weather has meant the turning of the year has crept up on me… but something inside has known.

I can’t help but think of the transformation that Spring ushers in. The seeds finally braving the world as they appear from the soil. New life arriving, with enthusiastic yells and insatiable curiosity. Stepping outside and feeling the sun’s warmth after a mad winter.

Working through my illness, I’m exploring who I am all over again. What my new abilities are, my new boundaries, needs and preferences. A good portion of it is relearning who I was before, at heart – elements of myself that have been lost or forgotten during traumatic times. A lot of what I find is new and exciting… and a bit scary.

I’m paying more attention to what is true for me. Yes, I do want to do that. No, I don’t like this. Not just giving way for the sake of others and becoming a shadow in the background.

I may not be able to do as much as I once could, but I Am Still Here. I’m passionate about words, both the writing of others and creating my own. I love seeing creativity in action and supporting creative folk. My spirituality encourages my curiosity, my desire to explore and to know Why.

Which means I have little time now for bullsh*t, for prevaricating and yoghurt weaving (look it up). I’d rather hear your stories than what you think I want to know. I’d like to see behind the everyday masks and make friends with the person beneath, warts and all.

I want to help others on their journeys, without judgement until I know the full picture. I want to know Why things are as they are. I want to poke complacency and foolhardiness, to encourage and applaud transformation, ideas, action and achievement.

The world is changing as we are. Much as it makes me want to hide sometimes, I know that opting out is not an option. I’d rather help, in my small way, to make and be the change I want to see. I can only do this by recognising my own truth, my own Self, but recognising that it’s constantly changing as I learn and move forward.

That’s what life is.

Once again: What Can I Do? What Can You Do?

Go on then. We’ll muddle through together, as we step forward into the new Spring.

Potential

(Desktop art: ‘Terrence the Badass Unicorn’, by MonkeyGhost)

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Self

The dark nights of winter bring dark thoughts. Not negative, necessarily – more necessary. Those things we’ve been avoiding, not seeing, preferring not to think about.

As has been the case for the second half of this year, I’ve been finding the days extremely difficult to face, while the nights are calming. Quiet descends. Even the wee Yuletide lights are soft, not glaring. We’re decorating the house with green, with a baby tree to be planted outside come Spring. Himself is working on Yuletide and Christmas Day, so I will likely be too. And that’s fine.

I’ve been finding myself pushing back against what’s expected of me. Or rather, what I feel I should be doing. Be with wider families at Christmas? Impossible and impractical. So having our own plans at home. Stiff upper lip and keep going? Nope – rest and recharge, ready to move forward again.

That phrase, ‘finding myself’. It comes back to that, I think.

At various stages in life, I’ve reached the point of ‘I’ve had all I can stand, I can’t stand no more!’ (with thanks to Warner Brothers). I’ve stood in the street and yelled. I’ve chosen the untrod path that has opened up to me. Life has been very… unusual as a result.

But I’ve always wondered who sets these rules. Ever since I was small, I can remember wondering who established those social dictates. Courtesy and manners, sure, but so much of the social dance is made up of falsehoods and lies, smiling when you feel awful, hearing yourself speak nonsense to fill the silence.

Is this really necessary? I was told off for being rude when I was encouraged to honestly answer a question. You want honesty? Brace yourself.

Of course, that’s not always true. But honesty tempered with false flattery is diluted. And, I truly think, disrespectful and unhelpful.

It is up to us to use our words with care, to speak our truths in a manner that others understand the intention rather than brusquely steamrollering over someone else’s boundaries. That’s why I’d rather constructive criticism when it’s needed. Other people see things that we may need to be aware of, which we’re too close to see for ourselves.

Other times, I felt that I was the only one seeing the truth around me, but we were all in some unspoken contract to remain quiet, for the sake of ‘niceness’ or ‘not rocking the boat.’ Or people will outright tell me that I’m wrong. Really? Why? I don’t feel wrong…

As I’ve walked further down this overgrown and unexplored path, I remember moments from my childhood that have affirmed it – that I’m going the right way. Children aren’t stupid. They know what feels good or bad, what makes them happy or… not. They’re trying even harder to understand this crazy world.

One thing I’ve learned from others and have shared before is ‘feeling’ truths. It’s pretty simple.

Say your name. “Hello, my name is —.”

Now say a name that’s wrong. “Hello, my name is Bernard.”

(This usually results in giggles.)

Now say something else that’s true for you. And then a lie. The more ridiculous, the better.

Can you tell the difference? How each feels?

The truths strike a chord within, like a note ringing… well, true. The lies are like a gameshow klaxon for WRONG!

Because we know in our heart, mind and soul when something is true or not.

I’ve been exploring my truths for many years now, uncovering new aspects of myself as I grow, learn and get older. What used to be true once is now not. Some things need to be passed over and left behind. We don’t remain static all our lives.

I’ve been having deep truths thrown up to me, both from my subconscious, my work and from simply having thoughtful friends share ideas. Again, gently, in the spirit of discussion and debate, rather than effectively yelling into my face that I am WRONG!

It doesn’t feel that it’s ‘being wrong’, although part of the way we act stems from fear of that. It’s more that we’re ‘not quite right yet’. Following an untruthful path is something that I think we know – after a while, it feels like pushing through deep snow, through treacle, as our subconscious tries to put us back on track. Admitting that is a small victory, not a weakness.

Lately, I’ve been surprised at some random thought popping up. ‘No, that’s not you any more.’ Or ‘Yes! You want to do that new thing!’ I’ve faced events that I would never have imagined attempting in the past, and enjoyed them thoroughly. Whereas everyday, normal tasks have become difficult, almost impossible.

As I pass through another year, I’m trying to allow myself to explore what feels ‘true’, ‘right’… for me, right now. If it isn’t, why not? Is there an alternative route? Do I really need to do that thing? Or is it just challenging?

For example, running is something that is absolutely challenging, but which fires my body and spirit when it goes well. It’s something I was always told I was bad at – but when it’s just me, out there putting one foot in front of the other, I can feel the laughter bubbling up inside. I don’t have the energy to doubt, frankly! I have to keep going, because at the very least, I have to get myself home.

I’ve discovered that some clothes I’ve worn for years are not longer ‘me’. I don’t like the feel of them, let alone the look. It’s time to pass them on, to explore what works for me now.

I did wonder if this was some sort of social ‘midlife crisis’, actually! But then is that not a stage in life which we fail to mark, like entering adulthood or (for ladies) our crone-time? We’re constantly moving from one stage to another. Let’s free ourselves to see what that means, to stay relevant to ourselves, to do what we want to be doing right now, as best we can.

This isn’t about privilege either, although I know I’m blessed to be able to do this. We can get through what is necessary – but maybe in a different way to what’s become stale. Try to see a problem from all sides, or *gasp* ask friends! Again, not weakness, not if your friends truly know and care for you.

Part of my mind has been mourning the loss of that normal world: ‘job, children, workaday week’ etc that many people have. But that’s not for me. I’m so very lucky that I can work as I do. It means I’ll likely never be rich enough to afford a red sports car for midlife! But I’m more likely to be figuring out how to make something as it’s needed that suits me and mine, rather than buy something that I can’t afford for the sake of social appearance.

Perhaps that’s the ‘stage’ that we are constantly exploring how to push through. Appearance versus who we truly are. But giving ourselves the freedom to ‘play’ with it, to try different hats, should be encouraged, not mocked. I’m so very glad of friends who are excited to explore with me, as I applaud their own adventures.

Spending time in the quiet of the dark months allows for these thoughts. I’m (nervously!) intrigued as to what’s coming next…

Season’s blessings, my friends.

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