Anger

In the Wake of Terrorism: Do We “Let Them Win” By Changing Our Plans?

It feels wrong to be writing about this less than a day after the horrible events in Manchester yesterday but it also feels wrong to let it go without saying a word. Apologies if anyone feels like the subject matter is too raw, but timings can’t always be perfect.

Since the news broke about a suicide bomber at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, I’ve seen a lot of people reconsidering their own plans; one friend is due to go to a completely different gig in Manchester at the weekend, and Husband and I are even umming and ahhing about the Bad Religion gig we’re taking Sausage to later in the year. The main response I’ve seen to people questioning their worst fears is other people saying “You can’t change your plans, that way they’ve won” and while I agree with the sentiment to an extent, it’s an issue which is so much more complicated than this one glib statement.

Ideological warfare perpetuated by extremists is ALWAYS done to incite fear in people and in this case, it seems to be working. I won’t go into theories of why this has happened, not least of all because there were so many children involved, but between this and the attacks at the Bataclan in 2015, it seems that places where people are going to enjoy themselves in large crowds are being seen as an easy target (remember when the IRA bombed pubs in the 1980’s? Same concept, I guess).

I think it’s a uniquely British thing to say “Keep Calm and Carry On”, but by the same token, isn’t this level of stubbornness putting us a risk? We can’t change our lives and cancel all of our plans but at what point do we draw the line and decide that some things are too dangerous? I just don’t know. I don’t WANT them to win, but I also don’t want to do something I regret.

In the grand scheme of things, the odds of something like this happening to you are in the millions to one; obviously the odds get slightly higher with each attack but as it stands you’ve got more chance of being struck by lightening or run over by a bus. We don’t stay indoors for fear of lightening strike, so should we be equally ambivalent to the threat of terrorism? I wish I had an answer for you, because at the moment my main instinct is to collect Sausage from school early, come home, stay indoors and not leave again for a really long time.

My heart hurts for the families who’ve lost someone during what they thought would be a joyful night of pop music and fun and I’m struggling to come to terms with even more cruelty in the world. I know we can’t, as humans, enjoy peace and love all the time because it just doesn’t work like that, but I just wish that I could envisage a future where any of this gets better. If the men in spaceships turned up today and offered us a lift to another planet, I think I’d take it.

Stay safe, love each other, be kind. 

Manchester

If you’re in or near Manchester and want to donate blood, there’s a link here to tell you where and how.

Anger

Dear ‘Woman At The Gym’…

Dear Woman at the gym,

I’m sorry that my car was in your way when you decided to swing your own car door into it in the car park today and I’m sorry that I didn’t meet your entirely insincere apology with acceptance. I’m sorry that I flipped you the bird after you asked me “what my fucking problem was” when I just shrugged after you screeched “I DID SAY SORRY” through my car window.

I’m sorry that you felt the need to start throwing petty insults at me as you walked away and I’m sorry that I sank to your level when I got out of the car to confront you about your aggressive and abusive demeanour. I’m sorry that you decided to stoop even lower and start insulting my appearance, my weight and my apparent lack of effort at the gym. I’m sorry that you felt the need to tell me that I should “get my fat arse to a personal trainer” because you didn’t actually see me squat 45kg, deadlift 65kg and bust out my overhead press, despite fucking HATING that lift.

I’m sorry that I don’t wear make-up to the gym, like you. I’m sorry I don’t look good in lycra yet. I’m sorry that I don’t see the point in blowdrying my hair before I lug heavy weights around. I’m sorry that my car was obviously an indicator of how “poor” I am, according to your words. I’m sorry that after absorbing your nasty words I sank even lower to meet you in the gutter and hurl insults back at you.

I’m NOT sorry that I called you an old hag, because damn it felt good to give you a taste of your own medicine.

I’m sorry that I’ve spent all day stewing over your words. I’m sorry that I’ve given you space inside my head that you seriously don’t deserve. I’m sorry about whatever happened to you today to make you behave so randomly aggressive towards me for no reason. I’m sorry that your world view makes you think you’re somehow better than me because you weigh less. Your behaviour today is the biggest indicator that this isn’t true.

I’m sorry that men get SO much of the blame about being intimidating to women when it’s actually women like YOU who are a betrayal of the sisterhood, a reason that some women may not even have the courage to venture into the gym. I’m sorry that there are probably women out there who are sacrificing their health so they don’t encounter bitches like you in the a place where people should all be supporting each other. I’m sorry that your life is so shitty that you need to take it out on other people. I’m sorry that I burst into tears in Waitrose, after the adrenaline had dissipated, because your words had actually really hurt me.

I’m NOT sorry that, actually, FUCK YOU lady, I won’t let your words bother me any longer, I’m not sorry that I’ve decided to be happy and positive and carry on doing what I’m doing despite your efforts to hurt me. I’m NOT sorry that you no longer have space inside my head. I’m NOT sorry that I’m choosing the supportive words of my daughters, my sister-in-law, mother-in-law and all the female friends who’ve given me encouragement as the ones I choose to listen to, instead of a woman like you who needs to cut others down in order to lift yourself up, because that’s just sad.

What’s that old quote? I won’t always be fat, but you’ll always be a c*nt. Or something like that…

Yours Sincerely,

The Woman in the Silver Car (with a small dent in the door, which I’ll shortly be reporting to my insurance company, along with your registration plate and the CCTV from the gym…)

Anger · Politics

Help to Make The Changes You Want to See

I’ve been hovering over my keys for weeks now, wanting to write a post about my absolute disbelief at the political things happening in the world right now. I want to share my incredulity about the things, the HORRIBLE things, which are happening all over the planet, I want to shout and swear and renounce my membership of the human race, but everytime I try to get it all out in any sort of coherent fashion it doesn’t happen and I sit here feeling angry and sad. So, instead of sharing my thoughts, I figured I’d just share a bunch of things that you can do if you, like me, don’t want to sit back and watch while the world goes to hell in a handcart.

Contact Your Representatives

Whether you’re based in the USA or here in the UK, our MPs and counsillors are supposed to represent their consituents, which means you need to TELL them what you want. Opposed to Trump visiting the UK? Tell your MP. Call, write, email, do anything you can to let them know you’re not happy. MAKE A NUISANCE OF YOURSELF. (You can find some useful contact information on http://www.allhelplinenumbers.com/)

Sign Petitions

It may seem futile, adding your name to a virtual list of people, but petitions can truly make a difference. The petition which was started to register an objection about Trump visiting the UK has now received enough signatures to be debated in the House of Commons. If you have an opinion, let it be heard.

Social Media

I’m well aware that a lot of my friends are probably sick of the sight of political posts on Facebook, but with Trump himself using social media more than any other President, it’s obvious what the power of social media can do. Tweet your objections, use the hashtags, join the noise against fascism. It will be seen, even if by some lowly bureaucrat.

Join a March

I know that getting out on the streets with a placard might seem like a daunting thing, but people power can make a HUGE impact and some of the marches that have already happened have had millions of people join in. There’s no way that millions of people can be ignored, so if you really want to get your point across, take to the streets.

Don’t Back Down

There’s a really annoying attitude from a lot of people that, once something has happened (such as Trump being elected…) there’s no point objecting because there’s nothing we can do about it. There is ALWAYS something that can be done and sitting back and watching atrocities happen “because you didn’t want to make a fuss” makes you complicit.

Anger · Family

Redefining Relationships – A Reflection on 2016

Redefining Relationships - A Reflection on 2016As most of you probably know by now, I stopped contact with my mother in 2013, when I was pregnant with Burrito Baby. Although she’s tried to control the narrative, telling people that it was because she showed concern about my weight because of my pregnancy or that it was because I was being controlled by my Husband or that I was bipolar, none of these things are true and were constructed by her in order to make her look like the victim of the situation.

The facts are these: I was systematically groomed and sexually abused by a family member for several years of my childhood. The person in question was technically still a child himself (which, by the way, is NEVER a justification), but a lot older than me and certainly old enough to know that what he was doing was wrong. I never told anyone about this but my mother read about it in my diary when I was 13 and chose to ignore it. I was then forced to tell her about it when I got engaged to Husband because my whole family decided to attempt to bully me into inviting the person who abused me to my wedding.

In the years that passed after it came out, it was kept secret from certain family members and even those in receipt of the knowledge continued to maintain a relationship with my abuser. I’ve been questioned, accused of lying, treated like was the one in the wrong, told that it was “all too stressful” for my mother and that I was making a mountain out of a molehill. Being told that “I can’t congratulate you on your pregnancy because the last one was stressful for me” was the final nail in the coffin for my relationship with that woman.

I mourned the loss of our relationship for a long time, but not the loss of HER, just the loss of a mother in any form. I felt like I’d been robbed of the chance to have a decent mother/daughter relationship and I felt hugely resentful to other people who had close, nurturing relationships with their parents.

After a while, it occurred to me that my life was actually less stressful. I realised that I’d spent my ENTIRE LIFE being the butt of their jokes, being called nasty names, being taunted for being a “calamity” (which, incidentally, was as a result of meningococcal septicemia leaving me with gross motor function issues), having the mickey taken out of me for the way I walk, my weight, the way I held my bag, having my self-esteem chipped away bit by bit.

What it also made me realise is that relationships aren’t defined by blood. My husband, the one she’d accused of being controlling (seriously, can anyone who knows how much of a gobshite I am REALLY imagine me being controlled?!), has my back constantly and reacts with love and raw emotion when he thinks I’m being mistreated, something she never managed to do. I’ve forged friendships with people who GET me and who’ve been properly fucking loyal to me in a way that certain blood relatives have never been.

Let’s not forget my Dad. The man she worked SO hard to decimate in my eyes, to destroy our relationship beyond repair so that he’d never get a look in. He’s man enough to admit that he made mistakes in the past and hasn’t always been a perfect parent but he’s been there, properly been there for me when I’ve needed him. I hadn’t told him about the abuse until he read my Mother’s Day post this year and I heard his heart break when he called me to talk about it. I hate the fact that it’s hurt him but I wept when I heard how sad he was because FINALLY one of my parents had acted like they give a shit instead of trying to deflect blame and make it about them.

I’ve kept a dignified silence for SO long and not risen to the barrage of messages to both me and my friends and family, the “accidental” phone calls, the self-satisfying Facebook posts where she pretends to be the victim of MY cruelty (what a fucking joke…) and allowing her friends to call me names and question my character  but NO MORE.

This is my line in the sand.

So, this is my Happy New Year post. Happy New Year to my friends (the ones who cook me crumpets and watch girlie films with me and call my Facebook trolls a c*nt and offer me help when I need it and just generally have my back, as well as the ones who I never see but speak to on Facebook who tolerate my ramblings and political posts) and my family (the best in-laws I could ever ask for, the mums and sisters and aunts and uncles and beautiful nephews and cousins by marriage who’ve been my rocks for almost eleven years, but especially in 2016, as well as my Dad and Tracy, my baby brother who’s a foot taller than me, and Uncle and Aunt and Joe and everyone else who I love) but most of all to my Husband and our girls, my reasons for living and trying to be a better person. I love you all.

Turns out, I’ve got everyone I ever needed.

Anger

Black Friday Madness

I love a bargain as much as the next person. Probably more-so than some as I’ll never buy things without looking for a Voucheroo code first (Dominos pizza, I’m looking at you!) but I have to say, the whole Black Friday thing leaves me cold. I went into town today to pick something up from Waterstones and walked through Debenhams to get there, and it was genuinely the busiest I’ve EVER seen it. I don’t know if it’s because I’m ill at the moment or what, but being in such a busy shop made me feel a bit panicky.

The thing is, I’ve not actually seen a single bargain online OR in shops which represents anything even close to a decent saving. People are going crazy for items that they probably don’t even need at prices which aren’t even that good. It’s just not British!

I did a cursory Google of “Black Friday crimes” and found stories dating back years of shoppers punching each other for the last discounted TV and even several stories of people pulling GUNS on other shoppers to get the best bargains. I found a report that showed that, since 2006 7 people have been killed doing Black Friday shopping and a further 98 have been injured.

According to Wikipedia “During Black Friday 2010, a Madison, Wisconsin woman was arrested outside of a Toys ‘R’ Us store after cutting in line, and threatening to shoot other shoppers who tried to object. A Toys for Tots volunteer in Georgia was stabbed by a shoplifter. An Indianapolis woman was arrested after causing a disturbance by arguing with other Wal-Mart shoppers. She had been asked to leave the store, but refused. A man was arrested at a Florida Wal-Mart on drug and weapons charges after other shoppers waiting in line for the store to open noticed that he was carrying a handgun and reported the matter to police. He was discovered to also be carrying two knives and a pepper spray grenade. A man in Buffalo, New York, was trampled when doors opened at a Target store and unruly shoppers rushed in, in an episode reminiscent of the deadly 2008 Wal-Mart stampede.”

I mean…it’s surely not just me who thinks that’s insane, surely? It’s capitalism at it’s ugliest.

I will admit to not being a hugely covetous person. I was massively frivolous with money when I was younger and it’s taken a long time for me to go the other way and show a bit of frugality, but I don’t really crave the newest cars or clothes which is probably why I don’t feel the desperate need to go out and spend a load of money on one day of the year. Maybe if the bargains were better I’d be a bit more inclined to get involved, but nothing really seems THAT cheap to me.

What do you think? Are you banging down the doors of your local department stores to get a few quid off or are you like me and a little bemused by it all? I’d love to hear your thoughts.