Big reveal

This is a post I never imagined I would get to write, hoped but never imagined; I didn't believe it would ever happen. So, I'd been living a predictable, routine and slightly boring life for a while now, too long, living vicariously through books, films and TV. Not really sociable, but seeing my family every week, occasionally meeting friends and when I was feeling brave, going on dates. I pushed myself to attend work events, joining the social committee to make it easier. I encouraged myself to do what I love, to challenge myself. I joined the Creative Writing Club at work and entered the annual short story competition, winning a prize! I started yoga, perk of the job, which I've kept up. I went to the gym after work for a few months, another perk of the job, got injured, unrelated, and never went back. I found a far nicer way to spend my time... I was thankful usually when plans fell through, so nothing disrupted my safe comfortable life. I was always annoyed when a message popped up, when I had to disrupt my life for a few hours, change my habits for a bit, always expending too much effort, constantly second guessing myself. I never thought I'd have the time, energy and inclination to willingly and freely change anything even temporarily, let alone permanently. I thought I only had the capacity to live for myself, barely managing to hold down my job, crashing when I got home, even after my health improved following an operation. I thought I couldn't let anyone else in. But underneath it all, I knew I wasn't happy with my single status.

The photo that started it all,
still my favourite photo of us

Already gone were the unattainable ideas of when I was younger: finding my one true pairing, a soulmate, Disney Princess style, instant at first sight, butterflies in the stomach, something that's all-encompassing, being swept off my feet, infatuated, where they occupy my every waking thought, heart leaping when I see them, the world disappearing when I’m with them, being told, to paraphrase Jane Austen, that I've "bewitched them body and soul" or a Brontë style passionate affair. But that’s overwhelming. I've felt that in my heady teenage years and it's not sustainable, not the ideal at all. Imagine living like that, trying to have a fully rounded life, hold down a job? I've had enough of feeling overwhelmed in life. It can feel overwhelming when you're alone together, but in a good way. Time can get away from you though! I need to prioritise food and sleep better... Now I know it doesn't have to be like that, loud and bold and conspicuous. It can be quieter, it's about them being a constant background thought, heart warming you when you see them, anticipation before you see them next, the world suddenly seems better, right, when you're with them. They become your favourite person, sharing each other's lives rather than being their everything. When I turned 42 recently, he got me a Douglas Adams-inspired birthday card, writing in it: "you have become my answer to life the universe and everything." He struck the right balance of funny, soppy and heartfelt, not overwhelming.

First Christmas together

Most people, love songs, romcoms and chicklit books focus on attraction, as if it's the most important thing. But there has to be more. I feel a whole mixture of emotions: relief that I have found someone who understands me or wants to understand me; safe, it's what every woman wants, to feel safe alongside attraction; supported, knowing I'm with someone who only wants what's best for me; accepted for who I am: clumsy, geeky and silly old me.

At a 40th birthday party: me as Sarah from Labyrinth

That's what everyone should look for and have in a partner: acceptance, safety and support. But everyone has an idea in their head of who they want to be with: what they look like, the job they do, their interests, experience and background. This can be due to things that have happened in the past, but are more likely to be high standards, intolerance, prejudice, ignorance, or an easy excuse not to even try. I was mostly the former and the latter. Dating apps have only made this worse: you can automatically filter people out and immediately dismiss people because they're not tall enough or too tall, too big or too skinny, don't earn enough, have a beard, don't have enough hair, have too many tattoos, are a gym fanatic, they smoke, they drink, they have typos in their profile, they don't provide a lot of information or their photos aren't good enough. I'm sad to say, I was guilty of all of that and more.

All dressed up for a wedding

I messaged someone throughout lockdown, for months. We really clicked, had a lot in common. Then when we could meet, there was no attraction. We were relaxed in each other's company, but we both knew nothing would happen. It was mutual thankfully. I had several dates with someone I really matched with, on all levels, the online chat was good, he was perfect on paper. But when I met him, again, there was nothing. I tried, I really did, too long probably. It led me to think there was something wrong with me, beyond the anxiety and confidence issues. It sent me back to therapy. I thought I could be on the spectrum, gay, aromantic, asexual, or that there was something deeply inherent in me that meant it was never going to happen for me. Underneath all that anxiety, I knew that was wrong though and I was also wrong that I wouldn't find someone; it would be sooner that I would ever have thought.

All dressed up for another wedding:
rococo monster mash-themed

It's such a cliché, but I hadn’t met the right person. Nothing that can ever be included on a dating profile really matters. What matters is who they are, how they treat people and how they make you feel. You don't get that online, can never see that online. You get that with time. I don't mean butterflies in the stomach. That means you're nervous around them, you're anxious. I thought I'd always feel like that. You should be looking for someone who makes you feel good, relaxed and calm. Yes, you're going to be nervous before and on the first date, but afterwards? I was a little awkward around him initially on our first "date", but then, it just felt right. That's the way it always is with us now.

All dressed up for Rocky Horror

I've had people who I've been attracted to or have matched with that have treated me like a side note, an afterthought, an object, something to be picked up and put down as and when they liked, out of sight, out of mind. They kept me on edge, making me feel on edge around them. This meant not replying to my messages or talking to me for days, weeks or even months, acting like nothing was wrong with that, starting up a conversation again when it suited them, making me feel jealous. If you feel jealous, then they make you feel insecure. My man is a natural at making me feel secure; he does it without trying as that's just who he is. The few times I haven't, I've told him and he asks me why and what he can do to make sure it doesn't happen again. The others weren't really interested in me as a person, not even trying to get to know me, only concentrating on what I looked like, certain parts of me, not me as a whole. I've been mansplained to, decisions made without consulting me because "they know what's best for me", dismissed outright, cut off when they found out something that didn't match with their idea of me. That's what dating apps do: make you look for your ideal.

Out for a nature walk

Knowing that you feel safe and secure with them, that you can be vulnerable and honest with them, that you can be yourself with them, that's the ideal. I like myself when I'm with him, I like to think I'm my best self with him. The weird thing is and I'm extremely upset to say, I would have swiped left on my new man: he is tall, even taller than my tallest brother; he is big; he has a mohican; he drinks, but not to excess; he spells things wrong; and worst of all, he doesn't read books! That would have been a dealbreaker in itself. He does get most of my references though and I get most of his, even if he doesn't think much of The Lord of the Rings... yet. We've introduced each other to the things we love: him My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, me: nature and wildlife. We've found new things we love together: Apothecary Diaries. I like to think one of his geeky t-shirts would have caught my eye, or his TV and film watching habits would have piqued my interest, or he would have included a funny quote that made me laugh. But no, that's wishful thinking.

Introducing him to my favourite film
The Princess Bride in the best way possible,
at the cinema!

It's what the tick boxes, algorithms and swiping lead you to become: someone who is quick to judge, all surface level and based on appearances. I would have missed out one of the most kind and considerate, cheeky and geeky, sensitive and emotionally aware, warm and tactile, supportive and encouraging, fun and funny, patient and understanding men I have ever met. I've been looking for someone like him all my life, without ever believing he existed. But in the end, he was literally around the corner from me!

Weekend away for a gig

When the right person comes along, for them you will want to give up your time, your evenings, your weekends, sleep, your Mum's Sunday roast! You will want to just be with them, even if it's only to watch anime on the sofa. You will make time for them when there is seemingly none, a few precious stolen moments between other things. You will have to become better at organising, logistics and herding cats, trying to fit him, family, friends, work commitments and chores into your plans, while trying to compromise as little as possible. You will not only welcome their messages, but reply as soon as you can and not agonise over it, you make sure to leave a reaction to show you've seen their message if you don't have the time to reply. Their friends will become your friends. You will do things that will normally cause anxiety like last-minute plans, going to new places, doing new things, trying new food, meeting new people, playing dress-up and wearing high heels, going to two weddings when you barely know anyone there, all because they want you to. When they need help, you will be there. And they will do the same for you. Everything will be easier because they're there right beside you. When you're used to doing things by yourself, you don't know how much easier it is when you have someone else, someone to consult, someone to help, someone to share things with. Family and friends can fill some of that role, but it's not the same.

At Cambridge Pride with one of his friends,
now my friend too

You rediscover yourself, learn new things about yourself. Things you thought you knew about yourself you will find are wrong. You always have to fill the silences, that you're boring otherwise. But just being with someone not saying anything now says a lot. You don't like being hugged or touched and you need your personal space. Not with them, all you want to do is hold their hand, stay near them, be as close to them as possible. You've never particularly liked kissing. But it turns out with the right person, you can't get enough. Trying new things always causes you debilitating anxiety. Not when someone is there to encourage you and will you on. You have to always be in control and prepared. Not if you're with someone, outside your family, you trust and can rely on. You always have to hide parts of yourself. Not when someone understands you, wants to know you, the whole of you. You're too insecure, too clingy, too needy, too anxious, too much. For some people yes, for the people that count, for the person that matters, never. You're not enough. You are when you find your person. Of course, it might just be him! If I was with someone else, it mightn't be like this.

First photo as a couple

The touch thing deserves more unpacking. Instead of feeling intrusive, claustrophobic and possessive as it has in the past, with him it feels right. I used to edge away, end it early and escape from it as soon as possible. But with him it feels natural, no need to ask for consent. His hand in mine is grounding for me, searching each other out as we walk or sit together. Slipping in and out of it as needed, not taking offence when we don't want to. His arm around my waist is reassuring, letting me know he's there for me, happy to be a couple in public. His touch is comforting, arousing and encouraging, sometimes all at the same time! I never thought I'd be in a hand-holding couple, but it all depends on what kind of relationship you have, how comfortable you are with each other.

I feel safe in his arms

It helps that this happened over time, getting to know someone over weeks and months rather than online dating like I'd been trying before. I could see how they treated people, learn what they valued in life, how they viewed the world. So, we knew we got along, had things in common, liked each other, more than liked each other, missed each other, cared about each other, did things for each other and just wanted to be around each other. It developed so easily, gradually and naturally. It's the ideal: friends to being a couple. We're lucky as we work together, so we can see each other every day, have lunch together. But it also means we wanted to be sure, not wanting to make things awkward at work, not wanting to ruin a friendship, taking longer to get together than probably necessary. But it was worth taking the risk, at some point that's what it comes down to: the courage to make that step.

Me helping dye my man's hair,
purple obviously!

Surprisingly, it was me that crossed that line first, but unbeknownst to me, he had prepared to do the same, but circumstances had got in the way. I'm happier than I've ever been, a contented sort of happiness, more self-assured, more settled in myself. My family have noticed and commented on it. It hasn't been anxiety-free; I don't know which new things will trigger me. But the right person won't find it too much, won't find you too much, won't try to change you, fix you, make you someone you're not. They won't turn away when they see your vulnerable side, won't be scared off by your more difficult side, won't be turned off by your messier side. They will accept you, encourage you and allow you to be yourself. I am more myself with him and his friends than I've been in years. You will change, not because they want you to, but just from their influence. You will want to, for yourself. You will finally dye your hair purple like you've always longed to do!

Becca dyeing my hair

Despite all the self-analysis I've done over the years, all the therapies and experiences I've had, it's still a mystery why this is happening now, why this is the right time. I am a person who is usually never sure about anything, living in the realms of possibilities, what ifs and if onlys. I can be swayed and influenced, gullible and impressionable, more sure of other people's opinions and ideas than my own. But I'm sure about him, that this feels right. This is amazing to me, not just because I am usually an unsure person; it's because I don't find it easy to trust people. Read my posts about when I was bullied at school to find out why. What I've learned through all this is to believe in actions not words. Believe what people show themselves to be, not who they say they are.

Our pub quiz team, what we did on our first date

Right from the beginning, I trusted him, from first conversation, from first offer of help, from first time alone together. His actions showed what a wonderful person he is. I never like being alone with someone I don't know very well, sometimes with people I do know! But I trusted him implicitly from the beginning; right to my very core, I knew I was safe with him, physically and emotionally. Just through being the open, emotionally aware and sensitive person he is, he let me know he accepted me for me. If there was anything wrong, we would talk it through. Most importantly, he wouldn't just leave, cut me off, abandon me (a complex I have) seemingly for one problem, one argument, one thing he discovered about me that didn't fit with his idea of me. All these things have happened to me and still cause me anxiety, but I've got better with it since my most recent therapy sessions. It stopped me from getting close to people, making friends and of course having relationships. The therapy obviously worked and maybe that is why now is the right time because not only do I have new friends, not only do I fit in with his community of people, but also, I have him.

Me last minute storytelling at The Elm Tree

He knows what he's doing; while not quite balancing me out, he complements me. Although he knows not to compliment me too much; I never believe it! He has enough experience of anxiety to be empathetic, but not as much as me, though most people wouldn't! He knows what to do to help me, support me, boost my mood. He knows how to make me laugh, how to turn me on, how to reassure me. He knows when to hold me and when to leave me be: too much touch can feel restrictive, especially when feeling stressed, anxious or panicky. All this he does without even having a conversation about it, let alone being told. This may be learnt through time being around me, but he has figured this all out by himself, or it's just who he is as a person. He puts others before himself, shows up for people, wants to do the best by people. It makes him a great boyfriend. One of my friends who proofread this for me says it's "the loveliest love letter I have ever read". We have been together as an official couple a year now and started using the L word after 7 months together, though we've known each other for more than 2 years and were friends for 6 months before we got together. I'm so lucky to have found him.

Encouraged to do so by my boyfriend

I do get flashes of wanting to go back to my simpler, easier and less busy life, especially when the anxiety hits, when I see my book piles, TV recordings and to-do lists stack up. Romantic books and films hold less interest for me now I know what real love feels like; the storylines, characters and drama don't ring true anymore, not what I want from love. That helps with my to read and watch lists! I'm lucky in how easy it is between us, how easy it has been to fall in love. I was ready to say it before him. I have battles within myself sometimes. But when I'm with him, I know he's worth any complications. I don't know where we're going, how long this is going to last. But I'm going to enjoy it, remain in the present, not think too far ahead. I know what I want my future to hold though. Him. I just want to hold him. I will hold onto him for as long as he'll let me.

Recreating that first photo a year later,
at the work Christmas party

Isolation

This is the beginning of a short story that came to my mind after hearing about the great news that Gwrych Castle has been saved and no doubt inspired by the recent film of Pete's Dragon, as well as The Jungle Book for obvious reasons and the Viggo Mortensen film Captain Fantastic for less obvious reasons, plus documentaries on the Himalayas and cemented by my recent holiday in Costa Rica. Let me know what you think. I can send the rest of it to you if you feel it's worth continuing with...

Grwych Castle as I first saw it, through the trees

With each step, she cursed her parents’ final wishes. They had tried to help by spending their final days in the tower, when they realised how sick they were. But there were a few steps still to climb and she had to catch her breath on every second step. Perhaps bringing both of them together wasn't the best idea, even with the ramp she had set up. But it seemed fitting; they were hardly ever apart when they were alive and they should be the same in death. They even left her alone in the castle for days at a time while they went on their expeditions. However, the view at the top was worth it. Her father had forbidden her to ever climb the tower and, unusually for her, she hadn’t defied him. The tales her grandfather regaled her with had left an indelible impression. He deliberately told her when she was little of the dark history of the turret that reached higher than the canopy, the only one of their towers to do so. The vague memories of him, corrupted by time had only made the stories more potent. Many of the things he told her she didn’t believe, but some of the stories reeked with truth and had given her many a nightmare since. Her mother didn’t speak to her grandfather for a year after he told his only grandchild about the waterfall of blood cascading down the tower.

The breath caught in her throat again when she came out into the open, but for a different reason. The world spun around her, not from the vertigo of the sheer height she had attained, jungle life swinging through the trees had put paid to that, but from the spiralling staircase she had climbed, even at her slow pace. Leaning against the staircase roof, letting it take her weight, she took her bearings. This view she had seen before, from the tallest tree in the area, and her favourite, which grew just outside the castle walls. Even that was overshadowed by the tower, but only just as it peeped out of the trees. It was the only bit of the castle which was visible from above, as it was surrounded by vast dense rainforest. Fortunately, despite the airplanes which sporadically flew overhead, they had never been found. She had long since stopped fearing they would be discovered and now she was on her own, even less so.

Although they didn’t live in the Himalayas, the sky burial had always appealed to her parents. The vultures would have have competition where they lived though, so it would probably be a harpy eagle, monkey or jaguar, if it could make it up that high, that might do the honours instead. She dragged the white linen packages to the centre of the tower, pushed a lock of her mother’s unruly red hair, a more vibrant colour than her own diluted version, that had escaped back inside and waited until the sun went down before she left them alone. No thoughts or feelings entered her mind, no tears were shed and her body was relaxed as she sat there. Listening to the sounds of the rainforest with howler monkeys calling in the distance, watching the butterflies and hummingirds flit about the flowers occasionally tussling to have it all to themselves and watching the lizards hunt insects was a form of meditation. The fears of her complete isolation would come later, in the middle of the night when she woke up shaking under her own canopied shelter. The anxiety that had been suppressed during the long days and nights as she nursed them, only able to watch as they got sicker and sicker, would soon take over. She wasn’t used to it and barely knew what to do. So she ran and ran and ran until she reached the river and plunged in, the shock of the cold supplanting the shock of her grief. On her return, she looked up at the dark walls and considered her future by searching her past.

The castle was a ruin and only a few rooms were habitable, there were too few of them, their numbers dwindling over the years and generations, to return it to its former glory. She had always preferred to live outside anyway, with barely a roof over her head. It was miles to any other man-made structure; the pyramids they occasionally visited were deep in the jungle to the west, across the border to another country. The explorers who discovered those pyramids never found the castle hidden in the jungle, built by a Scottish family who fled their homeland after the battle of Culloden, foreseeing the loss of their heritage and proud national freedom. What possessed them to build a castle in a rainforest had been lost in the stories handed down by each generation. What was left was only a vague outline of trying to bring a bit of their old home to their new one. The local tribe were the sole people who knew they were there, but they keep their distance now, after an initial friendliness and trade of knowledge and supplies; when the building started, they never came by again. She occasionally sees them through the trees, but neither approaches the other. Although she knew she would have to when she came of age. Their actions to ensure they kept the bloodline going almost erupted into outright hostilities. Her father prevented that coming to pass.

A few days go by and the first vestiges of grief are breaking through the numbness that settled in, or she allowed to settle in, after the anxiety threatened to overwhelm her. Her sobbing wails attracted a few animals which she saw off easily and scared off a few more, which was more problematic as she was trying to catch them at the time to add to her food supplies. The future was becoming more oppressive, but the decision of what to do next seemed too large to make. It loomed over her, especially when she was trying to get to sleep. It couldn't be put off for much longer. Loneliness was not a problem, but isolation could be. Her independence worried her family at first, then they realised it was a blessing in disguise; dragging herself home after breaking her ankle in a bad fall silenced them. Dying alone was the thing that frightened her most; her parents had each other at the end, but she had no one.

So the next time she saw a tribesman, she stalked him. There was no need as she knew where their village was, but it was good practice. It was pointless all the same as he was too good of a tracker and hunter to not know she was there. But he hadn't counted on her training, handed down from generation to generation, provided by one of his ancestors no doubt. He tried to lose her a few times and at the last attempt, she let him think he'd succeeded and his complacency was his downfall. As the village appeared through the trees, a beautiful forest glade she had visited a few times in her curiosity, despite her father's warnings, she crouched down low and waited for nightfall, which always came suddenly.

Under the freedom of dark, her small figure crept past the guards and made its slow way to the chief's hut, using the various structures and other huts as cover. As expected, she was not accosted and burst in to see the chief, using surprise as her entry pass. Before anyone could grab her, her knife was at the chief's throat and the few people in the hut froze. Slowly she turned round and took them in. That was when she realised her mistake. The tribesmen she had thought she would have to fight off, before she could overpower the chief and force him to take her in; their code of honour stating that any great fighter would be welcomed into their village; were not there and in their place white people like her. The obvious leader who had until a moment ago been sitting down with the chief had startled into a standing position. A man behind him had a metal contraption with what looked like a telescope on the end; it was pointed at her and her immediate thought was she was in trouble. It wasn't what she feared, though it did look like a threatening weapon, but she was in trouble all the same. Before anyone could make a move, she barged past them, knocking what she would later learn was a camera out of the man's hands and fled.

Over the next few days, she cowered in the castle, doing the bare minimum as to upkeep, her previous forays had kept her food stocks at full capacity. All the while, she assumed she would be invaded. The defences were all set up, after extensive repairs due to lack of use. Nothing happened. The anticipation escalated her anxiety and when the invaders finally did arrive, they found her incapacitated in the middle of the castle courtyard. Anxiety turned to panic, the body she could always rely on failed her and her athletic legs had crumpled under her. A tribesman had clearly been persuaded to lead them there and when their eyes locked, they seemed to apologise. When she tried to stand to run away from them, she found that she could not move, her legs were locked in position, though her heart was pumping as if she were running a marathon. That was when the world swam in front of her eyes and when she could see again, she was being carried away. The scream that was developing in her throat got lodged and she struggled for breath. The limbs that had sealed her fate, came back to life and she flailed in the man's arms. He dropped her more in surprise than pain. There was no fight left in her, but her flight took her to her sanctuary. That was where they found her, asleep; the adrenalin that had gotten her there had caused her to crash out.

Common sense prevailed and they let her rest, only in favour of exploring the castle in wonder and complete bewilderment. The top of the tallest tower had been blocked up; she had left her parents up there and didn't look back. So there was no blundering into making a gruesome discovery. When they returned to find her waking up, they did make one blunder, cornering her in her safe haven under the canopy she had made herself. They soon learned their mistake with a few minor injuries, but when they had her pinned down, telling her to keep still, they almost let her go in shock, when she replied "I will nae give up." "You're Scottish!" The pale white of her skin may be suntanned and made less harsh over the generations, the strong Scottish blood watered down by successions of tribesmen and women, but the red of her hair was still clear to see and her accent was as broad as a true highlander.

When her mother had taken a local man to her bed, keeping him captive until she was sure she was with child, they were all astounded that he didn't immediately flee when he was freed, instead he stayed with them and became part of the family. She was the first of their family to be truly half Scottish and half tribesman. How they retained the red hair was a mystery even to them, but they were grateful for it. The accent was simpler to maintain. It was what saved her now and more importantly them. With the leader of their group on top of her and her struggling to get away, she almost missed it. But when she heard it, she suddenly stilled and peered through her hair at the man who had spoken. "Nae lassie, do not keep on so." His hair was black and his eyes blue, not the red and green of her own, but she recognised something of herself in him, beyond his accent which was softer than hers. His hand reached out for hers and she took it, letting him lift her up and into a strong hug which slowed her heart down and her racing thoughts. The anxiety about her future dissipated as with a few words and one action, she knew she was alone no more.

Inclusion: a personal revelation about why I'm a librarian

I've been hearing a lot about inclusion lately; the recent UXLibs IV conference in Sheffield has meant it's been a constant feature in my Twitter feed for a week and it's made me more attuned to it. I see it in the anniversary of Grenfell Tower, with the emphasis on community. I see it in many articles about the football World Cup in Russia due to the country's attitude towards LGBTQ people. Obviously, I see it in MeToo and TimesUp. I see it in much of the commentary about a certain president across the water from us. I was woken up to it close to home by the EU referendum, or more aptly the opposite of inclusion: exclusion. However as a middle class white female living in a developed country with free healthcare and education, I thought that I'm in a privileged position. But I haven't always been. It was in reading Christian's blog post of his UXLibs IV keynote, that I realised I haven't always been so privileged, that I have felt exclusion. For a long time in my life I was excluded and it has affected me ever since, in ways I'm just beginning to discover. It has lead me to search for groups, people and institutions that provide that sense of inclusion and community, for better or worse. I have a strong sense of loyalty to people and place. And it's why, even when I have been included, that I haven't felt the full force of that inclusion no matter how welcoming it is, because of the exclusion I felt at an impressionable time in my life. I work in a great library, among great people, in a great School for a great institution in a great city. I've probably been here longer than I should have been because I feel so included here. It was in reading this particular paragraph of Christian's that it hit me:

"I find the concept of belonging very important and very closely related to inclusion. I see belongingness as a fundamental emotional need for human beings to be an accepted member of a group: Could be a family, co-workers, religion, a football team or the UXlibs community. If you tell me you don’t need to belong I say you either a psychopath or a liar. We have a desire to belong and be a significant part of something that is greater than ourselves."
https://christianlauersen.net/2018/06/07/inclusion-and-belonging-in-libraries-and-beyond/

Exclusion and inclusion

One of my key drivers is to include others, to put others before myself and it's why being a librarian is an ideal job for me: libraries are open places, the best librarians are inclusive people and the library community is special to be part of because of their inclusivity.

That's the problem with the librarian stereotype; it's all about exclusion with the shhhing, the rules and the stern woman in a cardigan and haired pulled back into a bun. Librarians are usually the complete opposite; we try to be inclusive as we can get away with and UXLibs IV was designed to help us do that.

Libraries feel like safe places to me: havens and sanctuaries. I can relax in a library, feel at home and importantly be part of something, among my people! It happens when I walk into any library, an immediate sigh of relief. I should have thought about becoming a librarian sooner!

Alone in a library

WARNING: you might want to stop reading here as things get a bit personal from hereon in.

Here's a little history to explain. At primary school, a wonderful school; it wasn't their fault, they did all they could, all any school can; at the age of 10, I experienced my first sustained bullying. Up until then, I had a best friend and various groups of friends I hung around with. I went to their birthday parties and I was part of several groups, even the cool kids. I was basically included everywhere, apart from the boys of course! Afterwards, I only really had my best friend and this intense attachment broke our friendship up, but gradually over many years. I don't blame the others, it's the way schools are; one person gets singled out for being different; for me it was my glasses, intelligence and awkwardness; the others join in. I thought I had got away lightly as it was nothing particularly terrible as it was only really name calling and nothing physical. But thinking back, I should have realised it was the exclusion that was the worst thing; it's the worst thing about any bullying: the alienation, the loneliness and watching the world from the sidelines.

The grip of belonging

So where the bully lead, pretty much everyone else followed. They didn't bully me, they just excluded me, stopped inviting me to things, hanging around with me and finally, talking to me, apart from taking advantage of my intelligence to help with schoolwork, which I gladly gave them because at least they were paying attention to me! I was persona non grata. I was invisible. When my parents found out and alerted the school, things got a little better. But the damage to my relationships, forget friendships, with my classmates was irrevocable and they were never the same since. When we started secondary school, I hoped things would change, but they didn't, even with the bully in the other half of the school, so no chance of any classes with them; everyone had moved on.

That was the thing, the bully was one of my closest friends. I had recently gone to a sleepover round their house and not a group sleepover either. Then suddenly they turned on me. So it wasn't just the exclusion that was the problem, it was the withdrawal of inclusion. So for the rest of my life, throughout my friendships, professional relationships, let alone personal ones, I have always been on tenterhooks, not getting too close for fear of the future exclusion.

Standing out

It was only a year until secondary school, so I handled it by retreating to the library, the one place the bully wouldn't go and therefore find me. It's why libraries are the one place, apart from home and churches, where "my soul can rest".

I tried to move on, but I still saw the bully in the halls who'd take any chance they could to pick on me. When others saw, they caught on and it allowed various others to bully me. It was tacit permission to bully. I didn't help matters; my shyness, introversion and passivity stopped me from sticking up for myself. Friends I made came and went, often literally moving away, which didn't help my sense of abandonment. It wasn't until I was 16 that things got better, when I did my A-levels; I found a new group of friends, potential boyfriend and finally an identity of my own rather than just following what everyone else was doing in a desperate bid to belong, but then the anxiety and panic attacks hit.

Now I'm in the best place with my anxiety, realising the reasons behind my desire to be inclusive and actually using my intense aversion to exclusion for good and in my professional life, that can only be progress. My need to belong though, that is something I'm going to be working on for the rest of my life.

Uninvited guest

Oh, hello Anxiety. Not content to stay in the background then. I could do without you today, or maybe that's why you're here; teaching your peers is way more nerve-wracking than students. You have company; a head cold is just being kept at bay, the stomach is flaring up and the vertigo is stronger than usual. Yet that's done me a favour as they're all cancelling each other, sapping your power. But my body is trolling me, that's what I call it when it seems to be attempting to sabotage my life. My monthly visitor has come early, bringing with it its troublesome attendants, the worst being emotional vulnerability. Hence, you again Anxiety.

You're getting easier to live with though. That's the right term; I can live with you Anxiety. Anxiety can be managed. You don't suffer from it, fight or battle it, but live with it. And I more than managed today. I coped. I didn't let you Anxiety stop me. You didn't stop me from having breakfast despite the nausea and stomach issues. I didn't let you make me smaller, hunch over; I stood with my head held high. I didn't let you take over, filling my brain with what ifs, thinking about what could go wrong, catastrophising (technical term) so I end up believing it will all go wrong. No panic attacks this time. I got through it and a few years ago, I wouldn't have been able to say that.

You're uninvited and unnannounced Anxiety. Sometimes I leave the door ajar for you and receive your warning signs. But the door was firmly shut this time and you gave me no warning. So, while you're here Anxiety as an uninvited guest, you won't mind me ignoring you, but I will say goodbye when you go.

A daffodil for this Spring day

Holiday inspiration

Wales will always have a special place in my heart, as do most of the places we went to on holiday when I was a child: Cornwall, Tenerife and Scotland. My holiday didn't get off to the best of starts as I was ill when we went and had to have the last day before we left off work. I was feverish, which is good for the imagination and the first few days, I wrote something whenever I had the time. I've written a poem that has always eluded me, finally managing to describe what a panic attack feels like in a poem. I'm going to save it for the book though. I just want to share a few holiday moments here that have inspired me, either for the book, for other pieces or in terms of mental clarity.

Aberglasney house and gardens

The previous times we went to Wales were either in the Summer or the Autumn half term, this is the first time we've been in daffodil season and they were everywhere! I finally understand what Wordsworth meant when he described them as a golden host. They never fail to brighten any mood.

Blue morpho butterfly

There is nothing better than achieving something you have long strived to get, for me this holiday it was a photo of a blue morpho butterfly with its wings open. There was a butterfly house at the National Botanic Garden of Wales and one was very obliging. They're my favourite butterfly and epitomise the ephemeral in my eyes: delicate, beautiful, powerful, ethereal and all too fleeting. They also represent my state of mind!

Laugharne estuary

As I said in my previous post, Laugharne has a hold on me unlike any other place I've been to. Going back after 20 years, seeing a view we used to see every day was pure nostalgia and gave me a boost I will never forget. Other things I barely remember, but not that view; it's ingrained in my memory.

My parents outside Laugharne Castle

We finally made it inside Laugharne Castle, after the fourth time of trying! I took inspiration from one of the greats, Dylan Thomas, who stayed at the castle and famously made Laugharne his home. His deep connection with his sense of place strikes a deep chord.

A blurry photo of an otter at Laugharne Castle

A day after I bought a cuddly otter at the National Botanic Garden of Wales; I picked it up and just couldn't put it down again; I saw a real live otter! I call it strange foresight. It's my first one in the wild and it was one of the highlights of my holiday.

Laugharne gravestone poem

Creative inspiration can be found in the weirdest of places, for instance a churchyard where I found this gravestone poetry. It sums up my feelings of revisiting Laugharne and how much of an impact it has had on me. I would love for my eternal resting place to have such a view.

The Mumbles causeway and lighthouse

Finally, spending time with my parents, having them all to myself, was a treasure. Even if we were silent, just sitting in each other's company, it was special. Going to a place my Mum had always wanted to go to, seeing another's pleasure, there is no greater inspiration, nor motivation.

A writing or writer's holiday

They say never go back. Nothing is ever as good as we remember. Sometimes they're right. I went to Scotland last year, to a hotel we went to years and years ago and had always wanted to return to and it wasn't the same. Mostly, because there were fewer red squirrels because they had cut down a lot of the trees. I also went back to the Lake of Menteith and Inchmahome Priory a few years ago and it was nowhere near as magical as the first time. But that place had grown to near mythic-like status in my mind, so much so, I constantly wear a ring on my left hand I bought there to remind me of the place and it helps me when I'm anxious; it centres me, grounds me and brings me serenity, taking me back to the first time I went there and luckily the second time hasn't marred the memory of bright sunshine after a rainy morning; the clouds literally parted as we got there; having the island almost to ourselves and the instant peace I felt as soon as I stepped off the boat and onto the island. I never take the ring off, even when I'm having a panic attack and all my jewellery and some clothes have to come off as it all feels constricting, that ring always stays on.

The Lake of Menteith and Inchmahome, so serene

However I'm returning to an area of the world I haven't been to for almost 20 years: Carmarthernshire. I went to Aberystwyth, Machynlleth and Ceredigion as recently as five years ago; Aberystwyth is where I did my library degree; but not further south. I love those three place names, spelling them, without help I might add, and mentally sounding them out. We had a favourite resort we stayed in many times near Laugharne, the home of the poet Dylan Thomas. We're not staying there as that would be a nostalgic step too far, but we will go back to Laugharne. I hope it lives up to the treasured memories. The last time we were there, I didn't have a digital camera, a mobile phone or any technology really other than a Tamagotchi! I'm hoping it will help clear my mind, shake off this fug and blow away this mental fog.

Laugharne beach

Basically I'm hoping this Easter holiday is going to force out this writer's block. Yes, I'm finally admitting I have writer's block. For me, that phrase makes me think about a lack of ideas, fear of the blank page and procrastination. However writer's block is at heart about a loss of confidence, fear of not being good enough and, okay, procrastination. Anyway, I've written about writer's block before and far more eloquently.

Mental veil

It feels like there's a veil between me and the world right now, where I'm existing, not living. I'm not experiencing anything other than on a shallow level, not making enough ties, bonds or relationships. Nothing is reaching me, tugging at my heart, funny bone or tear ducts. Apart from watching Harry Hill and Martin Kemp on Bake Off which did all three. Is it worrying that people I will never meet incite reactions far beyond those from the people I love and care about? It's difficult to explain, but I've felt this way many times during my life, sometimes so much I convince myself I'm an automaton, sometimes its only momentary. But this mental weather has set in. So, onward to Wales and forging deeper connections.

Writer's block

I wrote a poem on my cycle to work:

On Autumn days when my breath masks the crisp blue sky
On Autumn days when the leaves colour the cold hard ground
On Autumn days when the frost nips the edges of everything

On Autumn days when Summer loses its battle to survive
These are the days when I feel most alive

I don't get writer's block. Well, not the block where I can't think what to write, just sitting staring at the blank page. Once I have a pen and paper in front of me, you can't stop me. So much so I've missed meals, alarms and bedtime. But I do get writer's block in that I don't even have a blank page in front of me to be afraid of. I don't get that far. Incidentally, the fear of the blank page is Vacansopapurosophobia. Don't ask me how to pronounce it.

Anyway, I don't have a blank page as I've already written parts of my book: I have the title, the characters, the plot, the chapters and the first paragraph. So I'm not even scared of the blank page. I'm scared of something far bigger than that, something that goes far deeper, something so profoundly terrifying I can't even sit down to write. I've always identified as a writer and longed to be published, I've always found it easy to write and I've always had ideas on what I want to write about. But now I'm actually on my way to being a writer, I just can't bring myself to do it. I'm being pummelled by what if's. What if I'm not as good as I think I am? What if my idea is rubbish? What if my years of not writing have dried up my writing abilities?

Something that has helped is that writing project I've mentioned. My piece has been accepted and I'm now a paid writer! I just have to wait and see what they do with my work. I'm determined to get this book written and I will bring myself to get started... soon.