Another New Years Resolutions Post…

Uncategorized, Writing

At the end of last year, my mum came running into the living room. She gave me, my sister, and my boyfriend a piece of paper each, “We’re writing new years resolutions” She said, with a massive grin on her face. “Write them down, give them back to me, and we will look at them again in a years time.” So we did. I wrote that I would start driving, play guitar and write songs more often, and that I would get a new job. Looking back at these a few days ago, I realised that I had only accomplished one of my goals.

It’s nearly the time of year where we make false promises to ourselves in order to make us feel better about the person we will become in the new year; these very promises that we completely forget about a month into the new year, and as a result we fall back into our old ways. However, everyone has those new year resolutions they actually manage to keep; for me, it was to get a new job. I managed that, and now I am much happier.

Anyways, I thought that I would write about my new years resolutions on here, and express why they are important to me. So here goes.

1.Become healthier:

This is most definitely the most popular resolution among everybody – eat better, go to the gym, practise mindfulness and so on. For me, its my diet.

This past year has been the worst in terms of my health; being put on and taken off medication, check ups with my doctor, and eventually my IBS diagnosis (although knowing I have an incurable health condition, it was a relief to finally get some answers). And after a year of pain and eating foods that cause this very pain, it would be nice to gain control of my condition and perhaps find a way to somehow ‘cure’ it. And, because of this, I will reduce the amount of crap I eat, from crisps to sweets. I will eat more fruit and veg, and drink more water, and as a result, I will not only feel healthier, but I will be happier too.

2. Start saving (properly):

Don’t get me wrong, I do save money – just not enough. And time and time again, I find myself eating into my savings account to save me from debt and to (maybe) help fund my weekly bottle of wine…

Anyways, this needs to stop; I need to start thinking about the future: about buying my first car, my first house, and going on my first holiday abroad independently. How am I going to be able to complete my dreams of living in Italy for a year after my A-Levels, when I barely save my money? With me, money falls through my fingers like sand.

3. Find more time for myself:

Since starting at Sixth Form, I have struggled to find time for myself. All my free time goes towards studying – and if not studying, then working, and if not that then basic necessities such as eating, cleaning and socialising with my family. I have lost myself, in the sense that I have no hobbies anymore. I used to be such a creative person – from writing music, to drawing the odd doodle. Now? I have no time to do that. This upcoming year, I would like to find time for myself and my hobbies, so that I can become me again and chill out.

2019, I hope you are positive to not only me, but to others and to the planet. I hope that this year will be the year of growth, happiness, and peace. And although I may not follow these resolutions to the end of the year, at least I reflected on what I need to improve within myself, and at least I tried, right?

Why Money is the Root of All Evil

Opinion, True Crime

Money makes the world go round, and I think that is the worst part of life today. It is the very thing that is essential to living a long, healthy, and eventful life – yet it is the root of most evil, too.

Take the case of Brian Douglas Wells, aka the Collar Bomber of Erie, Pennsylvania (History Hit, 2018). Wells was a 46-year-old pizza delivery man who had no criminal record. On the 28th of August 2003, he calmly walks into a bank with a collar bomb around his neck, a shotgun disguised as a cane, and wearing a white t-shirt with the word ‘Guess?’ written on it in black marker. He demands $250,000 from the cashier, handing him a note stating that the collar around his neck was in fact a bomb. The cashier states that they didn’t have $250,000 cash,  but gave Wells $8,000 and he left.

 

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The note given to the cashier at the bank

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Wells robbing the bank, caught on CCTV

Wells then arrived at the McDonald’s car park, not too far from the bank, he lifts up a rock to reveal another note. It was in this moment that he was surrounded by police, forced to the ground, and handcuffed. He explained the situation to the police officers, about how he was taken hostage and forced to rob $250,000 from a bank. He was told that if he was successful, the bomb would not explode. However, if he failed, it would explode within twenty minutes. What was strange about this incident is that he remained completely calm throughout the whole thing – therefore raising the question, is this supposed collar bomb actually real? Was he actually taken hostage and forced to complete this bank robbery? Or was this just a genius heist designed by himself to present himself as innocent, despite him being guilty?

Long story short, the bomb disposal team were called, but by the time they arrived at the scene, the bomb had already exploded, resulting in the death of 46-year-old Brian Douglas Wells.

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Wells on the floor, handcuffed, with the collar bomb still round his neck.

The thing I find most upsetting about this case is that it was completely motivated by money – the very thing that makes the world go round, yet the very thing that causes so much hatred, anger, and violence. This horrible death of an innocent man could have been prevented, if only money wasn’t so important to people and greed wasn’t so common.

On top of this, other crimes such as drug-dealing are also a result of our money-orientated society. In fact, the use of cocaine resulted 432 deaths in 2017 in England and Wales, with the estimated number of 875,000 people using the Class A drug (Ons.gov.uk, 2018). This drug was only made available to these individuals because of the drug dealers – and without drug dealers, there would be no drug use or drug-related death. However, drugs are a massive part of our society – everybody knows someone who has done something, and it is so sad to know that someone close to you would put this literal poison in their body. And it’s even sadder that someone has actually provided them with this dangerous drug, knowing of its harm it can cause, for their own personal benefit; the blood is on these drug dealers’ hands, yet they are driven by money, a monstrous thing.

If you don’t have very much money, then you cannot afford basic necessities such as food, water, shelter and health. Luckily, in the UK we have the NHS, saving us Brits a lot of money – yet some things you have to pay for, such as prescriptions (unless you are  eligible for benefits, you are 18 or under and in full-time education, and so on.) A prescription costs £8.60 each, and if you are like me and your health relies on medication, then this is not cheap if you are not eligible for free prescriptions. Luckily, I am 18 and in full-time education, so my medication is all free –  but if I wasn’t, and when I turn 19 next year,  I would be paying £43 a month – that’s a fourth of my monthly wages.

In other words, a good life means having money. No money means the inability to get medical attention, a poor diet, and no safe shelter. These are all necessary for human happiness, yet so are so many other things.

With the sudden rise in social media use, we are reminded everyday that a happy life is a rich life – that you can only achieve happiness if you are attractive, in a well paid and successful job, and if you can afford luxuries, such as travelling or material possessions. However, this is not the case! At all! Money may buy you a nose job, but that won’t cure your deepest insecurities. Money may buy you the latest tech, but that feeling of excitement will only fade away. You may be in a boring, nine till five office job which sucks the life out of you, and drains all the colour out of your life – but it’s okay, at least you’re earning £70,000 a year, right? I don’t know about you, but I would much rather be in a job that pays less, but keeps me happy.

What I’m trying to say, is that you shouldn’t rely on money to keep you happy. Money is the root of all evil, and yes, it can help you get by and achieve some aspect of happiness in your life – such as travelling, or buying your first home. But there are so many other elements of your life which can do this too: family, friends, mindfulness, and love – these things all cost nothing.

They are right in front of you, they are free, and they are the root of your happiness.

photography of woman surrounded by sunflowers
Photo by Andre Furtado on Pexels.com

 

 

 

References:

Writers Block: Every Writers’ Worst Nightmare

Writing

It lingers, and waits to capture you; it follows you around every corner, watches you go about your daily life, and it almost never fails to defeat its’ prey. And that prey is us – us writers.

Some say it takes on your worst fears and becomes them, others claim that it is just a black mass that drifts and watches you, others just say that it cannot be seen – it can only be felt in the atomosphere, that it is a strong feeling of dread, uncertainity, and pure terror for the unknown.

You see, Writers Block is a monster that will always exist, despite how many times you try and fight it – you can run, you can hide, you can read other people’s writing in hopes of finding inspiration for your next piece, but it will always win.

Writers Block is an unsettling demon that has been keeping me awake at night over the past few months; it caught me at probably the best time, when I was fully focused on my college work, studying everynight and never finding any time for myself – thus, never finding time to write. Writing is my outlet. It is a way I can really express who I am, what my views are, and how I feel, without being completly judged for it. And I have lacked the time, effort, and words to do so. Perhaps equating in all this stress and anxiety that I am bottling up right now.

Anyway, how do you overcome writers block? Who knows. Some may just search for inspiration and force themselves to write, others may just write whatever comes to mind – even if it seems completely boring, it’ll interest someone – and others may just become fully engulfed by this demon and let it consume them until it has finished feeding on their mind, soul, and words. Nevertheless, it’ll leave eventually, when it feels ready to, of course…

Dear My Silent Enemy…

Health, Poetry

It feels like a you have stabbed

a blunt knife into my stomach,

pushed your hand inside the bloody wound,

and pulled out my stomach,

You have placed it on the floor in front of me,

my eyes fixated in horror, disturbance.

I clench in pain.

My chest burns,

you have set it alight.

I swallow the acid you have fed me,

burning my chest even more.

My heart is on fire,

and you

sit back and

laugh.

I am breaking

into sweats,

eyes watering,

I

cannot

breathe.

I need to stop.

Just take a seat,

breathe.

I look down,

eyes closed,

hand on stomach.

Dear Silent Enemy,

you have done so much pain, yet I haven’t nothing to show for it.

Please, Offer Me a Seat.

Health

It is a Monday morning, and I am on my way to college. I get to the bus stop, and I wait with my boyfriend. After a cold fifteen minutes of waiting, in the cold harsh fog of an October’s morning, the bus finally arrives. I am already clenching in pain, knowing that I will have to continue this way for another half an hour. I squeeze my boyfriends hand, and give him an uneasy smile.

We get on. I look around, peering from seat to seat, trying to spot an empty place for me to sit. Nothing. My stomach gurgles in pain, and I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on something else.

Last summer my issues with chronic pain came about. I was in and out of doctors appointments, barely going to college, and even found myself in hospital a few times. Constantly on different medications; from omeprazole, lansoprozole, and now mebeverine, even all three at once, I found myself barely wanting to live. Life had become less exciting, and more about what I could actually eat, whether I would throw it up, if walking the extra distance will make me regret it for the rest of the day, and pain. all. the. time. I couldn’t eat without pain or nausea, yet if I didn’t eat I’d still get these symptoms. It was (and still is) a never ending battle; and food is my enemy.

The doctors told me I had Gastritis – an inflammation of the stomach lining, and a bloody hard thing to heal. But I stayed hopeful, because in some cases you could recover from it, and I wished I was one of those cases. Eventually, things did get better, I was able to start going back to college, eat the occasional curry, and drink the occasional coffee. I could finally enjoy food again, I could finally enjoy life again.

It is now a year later, and I am now back in the same place I was in last year, except this time the doctors are telling me I have IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome). I have lost my appetite again, and I’m worried about my health. I’m falling asleep in lessons, most probably because I’m lacking nutrition. I have no positivity for life, and every single thing I do is followed by the anxiety my chronic pain has caused me. Let alone anxiety. I am drained all the time, and life has become so difficult. I see no excitement anymore. Yet if I stress or worry too much, my pain will worsen. There is no winning here. And I am only 17.

So I’m standing, on the bus, fighting back the excruciating pain that my stomach is causing me – wishing, hoping, that someone will get off the bus so that I can sit down. And the thing is with having an invisible illness, is that nobody knows unless you say; but I can’t ask for someone to gave me their seat, only to have them look me up and done, and ask me ‘Why?’. I don’t have to explain my illness to anyone, you see someone with a broken leg, you don’t ask them why they want a seat before they sit down?

I guess what I’m trying to say is that please, don’t always presume. If you see somebody standing on the bus, and they appear to be struggling, please offer them a seat. No matter their age. It’s hard asking for a seat, when you feel like you’re over-exaggerating and imagining your pain most of the time.

Anyway, not all illnesses are visible.

Hello World!!

Uncategorized

I don’t really know how start, where to start, or even what to say… so I guess, hello.

My name is Fay, I’m 17 years old and I’m here, with a blog. I’m not exactly sure what my aim is, what I’ll be writing about; I just want to make my mark in this world.

I’ve never really known what I wanted to do; typically, as I child, I wanted to sing, to act, to perform on stage and influence people. Then I started my last year at secondary school, and realised that fame was “too unrealistic” and that I should stop dreaming and find a much more suitable career option. But the problem with that is, everyone who aims to be realistic ends up in a job they don’t care about, a job they hate. And that’s not me. But anyway, I listened, put my guitar down and studied hard – I came out of secondary school with five A-A*s, a couple Cs, and a D.

I spent my whole summer that year with my boyfriend, day in day out, and we’re still doing the same today. I started a media course at college, found myself hating it halfway through, and that’s when my health sort of deteriorated. I was in and out of the doctors, on three different types of medication, as well as a strict diet. I was only recently diagnosed with IBS. I dropped out of that college course the minute I got my diploma, and now I’m at Sixth Form studying my A Levels – Psychology, Sociology, Philosophy and AS Level Core Maths. And that’s my life in a year summed up.

I guess I’ve always enjoyed writing; I used to have a diary throughout primary school, which trust me, is embarrassing to read back on. I was in secondary school when I discovered Wattpad – an app where you could read and publish your own stories. I tried out writing several times, but I was never committed enough to write a whole book (I couldn’t even come up with enough words to fill up a couple chapters, let alone a story!). So I just read other peoples stories on the app. Eventually, I grew out of Wattpad and found myself on Tumblr, writing out my teenage angst. I tend to overlook 2015-2016 – from therapy sessions to nights of crying myself to sleep, those years of Tumblr were not good to me. I then discovered my love for music and started learning the guitar. This was when I started songwriting, and soon I found myself another outlet other than my blog on Tumblr – and this one was a lot more positive. I uploaded my first song to YouTube in the summer of 2016, and within a couple months I had got over one thousand views; so I continued, writing, singing, uploading, until 8 months ago. When my writers block struck, and I put down my guitar and my pen. And now I am here, writing a blog, because I’ve discovered that writing is what I do best; and with years of uncertainty regarding my future career, I should’ve just look at my diaries, my blog, and my songs, I should’ve looked at what they all have in common – writing. It is my outlet, my hobby, and I think, at this point, it’s the way to go.

So yeah, welcome to my blog.