Growing Pains

I've been suffering them this summer. Much to Boy's annoyance. 

I've been calling him a teenager, getting his birth date wrong (I know, right. And I was there. All 27 hours of the whole process). 

My Boy is all growed up.

Last Monday, he graduated from the University of Lincoln having successfully secured his BA (hons) in Advertising and Marketing. He's now on the depressing hamster wheel that is the job hunt.

You have to understand, I'm not coping well. 

You'll remember I didn't cope well when he turned 13 and officially became a teenager. I'm not coping well now either.

The thing is, it's a bit of a given that a parent will love their children (or at least it should be), but I like him. I genuinely like him as a person in his own right. I respect his values and I love his sense of humour. He's kind and generous, he's supportive and ambitious. And yes, we drive each other nuts occasionally. 

He's gone from this:

to this:

Could I be any more proud of him? I don't think I could, I'm at bursting point as it is. As he's all growed up, I suppose I'd better refer to him by his grown up name: Rowan.

Hello February

When January began, I had everything all planned out. I wrote in my diary the time table for getting fit. I planned out my first novel and wrote down when it would be completed. I was waiting eagerly for the start of my Introduction to Counselling course. I was exceptionally nervous and full of doubts, but ready to go for it.

And then I went back to work at the office.

I've been at Insight for over 4 years. It is the longest I've ever worked anywhere. Ever. It's been absolutely brilliant. No two days have ever been the same and the people are brilliant (if slightly bonkers, which is probably why I got on there so well).

After the first couple of weeks and the start of my counselling course, I realised it was time. Those two weeks I was distracted and grumpy and tired because my heart wasn't in my work. Neither was my head. The counselling was course was everything I'd hoped it would be and more.

I took stock of everything I want to do this year and where I want to be at the end of it. I realised there was only one thing for it: I had to go for it. 

I have to put my energy 100% behind the training and the professional development that will put me on the path to becoming a fully qualified counsellor. I have to put my energy 100% behind the three creative projects that have been rumbling around my head for years, to move them from my imagination and into the world. 

A couple of weeks ago I handed in my notice. Last Thursday was my last day. In between me handing in my notice and my leaving working, I hardly slept. During the day, I've been focused on making sure I left work in as tidy a fashion as I could. But at night...well, that's when everything hiding in the crevasses all day, came out to play. Plans, hopes, fears. Everything.

I only started sleeping properly again a couple of nights ago...

The last few days have been busy as well. There's the small matter of my tax return that needed to be filled in. And then, there was my Yuletide present from Dave...a gin making afternoon at the Adnams Distillery in Southwold.

But that's a blog post for another day...

In the meantime, I've be rearranging my working space. Dave being his usual lovely self, gave me a new desk. I'm now working in my front room as it's more comfortable. My study space is now being turned into my exercise area. I've got a lot of catching up to do. I'm more than aware that if I am to achieve everything I hope I can this year, I've got to be healthy and well. 

I am going to be 45 this year. The clock is a-ticking. There is no "safe" choice in life. Everything comes with a price and safety is the most expensive choice of all; one, I have never been very good at paying. It may make my life look a bit bizarre and haphazard from the outside, but I can't face the slow, living death of un-fulfilled dreams. Far better to take the leap into the unknown and face the consequences.

Moving on up!

It is done. I have moved. Or rather, it would be more true to say, I have been moved. Frankly, from here on in, that's the only way I'm going to move, unless everything fits into the back of my car. The most stressful thing about the entire experience of moving, was waiting for the removal men. 

I got most of my boxes unpacked the weekend after the move. It has very quickly gone from The Cottage to feeling like home. The rooms are large and airy, with all our things in them, it's so comfy and cosy. I love opening the curtains in the morning. I never know what I'll see. Granted on the days I work in Norwich, I don't see very much at all because it's dark. But this morning there were two hen pheasants perched on my fence looking a bit disgruntled at my interrupting their chat. 

Living out in the Sticks, there's a lot to get used to. The nearest shop is over a mile away. I will have to go even further afield for my larger weekly shops. I've been told there is a Morrisons and Tescos in Beccles, which isn't that far from here. I'm going to have to do a bit of research to see if I can get my hair, nails and eyebrow seen to locally, rather than have to troop up to Norwich just for that. 

The most challenging thing was lack of internet. I'm not bothered about television and haven't missed that at all. No Facebook? OMG! How did I cope?

Actually, the break from my online life was good for me as well. It made me re-think my morning routine and I realised how much time I spent on social media, when I started being far more productive round the house. Nevertheless, I really missed it.

Yesterday, I came home to find my new kit waiting here for me. I expected it to be incredibly complicated to set up. Hell no. The most complicated part of the whole process has been figuring out the best place to put the router. Happily, the xbox can connect wirelessly, so no more cable trailing across the floor and it's not like I'm gaming online so I need to eek out every extra millibyte of speed. 

This morning, I unpacked four more boxes and set up my study. That makes me especially happy, I have to say. I've got the last three boxes of books to go, but they can wait until tomorrow. Right now, I'm enjoying sitting at my desk, staring at the hedge laden with rose-hips and the field beyond it. I may indulge in an afternoon nap. 

That's the one thing I haven't enjoyed about the experience - the weariness. I'm bone tired. I've got dark marks under my eyes and I've got that lovely grey tinge to my complexion at the moment. I am just so tired. Having said that, I'm sleeping better. And as the days pass and I enjoy the routine at work and come back to my new abode, I feel lighter. Much lighter.

I'm so glad I did this. It was such a good thing to do. I'm so incredibly lucky to have the friendship and support from Z, who's been such a star. Boy came home last weekend. He seems far more comfortable here. He couldn't wait to take Z's dog out for a walk and explore. I'm really looking forward to him coming home for the festive season. It's going to be so much fun. 

All in all, I'm doing okay. Less strung out, chilling out more. In fact...I think it's time for a quick nap...

A Fond Farewell to the Pink, Fluffy, Dressing Gown

Ladies and Gentlemen it is the end of an era. After much thought and a little bit of sadness, I have decided to retire the Pink, Fluffy Dressing Gown.

Drinking Coffee in the Pink, Fluffy Dressing Gown circa 2007

For many years, the Pink, Fluffy Dressing Gown has meant hours spent drinking coffee, indulging myself on social media, post-midday breakfasts, smoking outside in the middle of the night, recovering from the night before. The Pink, Fluffy Dressing Gown has become synonymous with idleness and time wasting. I remember ardently defending my right to be dressed only thus at 2 pm. The PFDG became a phenomena, an institutions. Had I been canny it could have had its own twitter feed and Facebook page. 

As Bob sang, times they are a changin'.

In the PFDG last year

I put the PFDG on a couple of days ago and it felt wrong. I was uncomfortable wearing it. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have outgrown it. I am no longer that lazy, layabout the PFDG used to know and love. I no longer while away my days, planning what to, eventually getting dressed and then perhaps doing something. 

In the PDFG earlier this year

My days now have two 5.45s in them. I actually have an active gym membership. I am working really hard to be strong and fit enough so I can go running and lift weights again. When I glance to my right, I've got a dead cup of green tea hanging out with my partially finished fruit, veg and protein smoothie. 

It's Sunday morning and I've already unpacked the dishwasher, put a load of laundry on, got myself clean, fed and out the house to get some house stuff. I would have left the house before 12 o'clock, but it was absolutely pissing it down outside and I really didn't need my new lampshades that much.

So raise your glasses and join me in wishing the Pink, Fluffy Dressing Gown well. Thanks for the memories. It was fun while it lasted.

New Shoes

Last week was very busy and very energetic. I got back to my exercise regime and my goodness the difference it made to my mood. All in all, I did two home workouts and then swam twice in the UEA pool. I also walked into town a couple of times and not at my usual slow pace either.

In all honesty, I can't say the exercise has upped my energy levels because when I went into work on Friday I needed matchsticks to keep my eyes open. After a few weeks of scatty sleep patterns, I've been sleeping very well again. 

On Thursday, on Dave's advice I called into the The Runner's Centre on the way back from swimming. I'm really glad I did. The guy who served me really knew his stuff. He assessed my stance and walk and pointed out my right arches weren't particularly strong. He then brought out a couple of pairs of shoes. He ignored my shoe size completely. He put shoes on my feet, let me lace them up and then he'd whip them off and kept trying until he was satisfied at the fit. He flat out refused to show me the cheap option.

This is the first time I've ever bought running shoes. With my dicky knee and dodgy back, I'm not entirely convinced this is a great idea. But there are so many benefits associated with running, I'm going to go for it anyway.

When I finally told Dave about my new shoes, he quizzed me on the whole process and then said "well done, they're a good investment." I was relieved. Ill fitting running shoes can cause joint issues, as well toe nail loss.

The best thing though was being able to go in and say what I wanted to do, without being laughed at. He was so helpful. He made several suggestions about having a look at Park Run and getting a running app to help me get started.

It then made me think about the shoes I currently wear for my workouts at home. The pair I bought were cheap and they've lasted me very well. They're 9 years old now. But when I felt the support around the arches, there's nowhere near the support I've got with my new running shoes. So, I went off to the sports shop and got some new cross trainers as well. They are so amazingly light and comfy. 

The runners are the flash ones with the pink soles. The cross trainers (grumpy shoes as I've taken to calling them) are the white with purple! 

The thing that I find so frustrating about myself is why I've waited so long to do this. I knew it was something that would be good for me to do and I should be doing it. Honestly. I suppose all that matters now is that I'm doing it and that I do it as long as I enjoy it. 

Oh, I also went for my post-40 health check. I'm not entirely sure why I should have much faith in their findings at all. It was supposed to be an assessment of my risk for cardiovascular disease. They checked my blood pressure, my pulse, height, weight and BMI and took blood to check my cholesterol. On the back of my results my risk has been calculated at 1.7%. This isn't too bad, I'm told. I'm told I'm well within the bell curve. 

Except my cholesterol wasn't a fasting test. And I have high cholesterol in my genetics. My cholesterol results came back high, but within non-medicating limits. Colour me unsurprised. Is it worth me taking any more action? I don't think so. The advice on the email with my total results was as generic as to be almost a waste of time: exercise, don't smoke and drink appropriately. Given I always drink with my legs either crossed or at least ankles together, I'm not taking it terribly seriously at all.

I begin to wonder if it wouldn't be a bad idea to have a proper fitness test at the UEA gym. 

Oh. Dear. Gods. 

Did I really type that out loud?