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    Christmas Thoughts 2018 - Home!

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    Home for Christmas this year, with family and friends; the first time in many years. I had always enjoyed the festive season, until fate took me far away from the country of my birth.

    Destiny has spoken once again and I am back home, looking forward to a traditional Christmas Day, the best present I could have ever asked for.

    Spare a thought for all those alone this year, pick up the phone or knock on their door. Extend the hand of friendship in the spirit of love and acceptance, embracing one and all!
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    100 Years!

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    Today I wanted to briefly say a few words about Remembrance Sunday. Yesterday was a busy day for me and I was unable to write an entry as planned. Now the day has past, I thought it appropriate to offer my views on this very British occasion, significant to everyone who understands the importance of history, in the building of our great nation!

    Remembrance Day or Poppy Day as I like call it,  takes place on the Sunday nearest to 11 November each year, the date an armistice was signed ending World War I. This was also my late Nanny Poppy's Birthday, so is particularly poignant for my family and I. On this day all of us are encouraged to commemorate the tremendous sacrifices made by ordinary men and women, called upon to carry out their duty, protecting their homeland from dictatorship and aggression. At 11am we remember all those who fought in the name of peace, affording us the freedoms we enjoy in the modern age. Ever since I was a small child, I have observed the one minute silence on this day of reflection and contemplation. I understand the importance of honouring lives lost, so I can blog and write my words, voicing an opinion and speaking as I do. I know more than most about the Great War, having spent the last few years of schooling learning about this dreadful schism, undertaking a trip to the battlefields in Belgium and France, seeing first hand where so many brave soldiers lost their lives. I have never forgotten that journey, just as no one should forget the bravery of all those who took part in the Great War (1914-1918) and every other subsequent conflict!
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    Portsmouth remembered the fallen of World War I in their own unique way, placing plaques in each street where they lived over a hundred years ago. This was a fitting tribute from a City whose military credentials are firmly rooted in its history. Portsmouth, like many towns and cities across Britain lost many of its own, in a conflict fought in and around the battlefields of Belgium and France.

    Every person knew someone who had died, whole neighbourhoods were decimated, condemning many families to a life left empty without their kinfolk. Fathers, the breadwinners and head of the family, their sons, Uncles and Cousins, all wiped out in the war to end all wars. If you were lucky enough to survive the onslaught in the trenches, then you may well have suffered physical injury, many men enduring painful burns and scars, the loss of limbs and sight and other disfiguring wounds. Many more experienced mental breakdowns, Post Traumatic Stress and depression, little understood at the time.

    This was the first truly international conflict with nations across the World doing their bit for King and Empire, also agonising like their British counterparts. While young men were sent to their deaths, often ordered over the trenches where they served, into battle against German bombardment, knowing they wouldn't return, Britain tried to carry on as normally as possible. As news filtered through to an embattled homeland, still more men left British shores to fight hundreds of miles away. The First World War lasted four years, the costs were high. 700,000 British were killed; world wide 20 million lost their lives and a further 20 million were injured; a high price indeed!

    Yesterday I stood in the kitchen of my Aunts house, observing the one minute silence at 11am. Wearing a red poppy, just like many millions of other people, I wanted to once again show my respect on Remembrance Sunday. The 100th anniversary commemorating the end of World War I, is an important date, after all as time moves on it wont be too long before the few who are left, who actually remember a loved one who died in the conflict, also pass away. Memories do fade and whether or not we continue to remember the dead as we do today, will be a matter for a different generation. For now we should all respect the memories of those who fought and died for us, the ones who didn't come home, the ones whose bravery is without question and the souls of everyone, wherever they are from, who continue to fight to protect our shores from the tyranny of repression and the futility of war.
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    Peaks and Troughs!

    richard-guy Running
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    Hi and as always thanks for reading.

    The last week has been a bit strange, probably best described as peaks and troughs really.

    I’m starting to get some routine back into my life again which is a real positive.

    Work has been frustrating this week as it looks like we are going to go through yet another restructure of the national team I am in – only a year after they did the last one. The term if it isn’t broke then why does it need fixing certainly springs to mind.

    Thursday was a certainly a trough day – from the moment I woke up I just felt negative about everything and I just couldn’t snap out of it no matter what I did or said to myself. I guess I am going to have days like that on this journey and I just need to acknowledge that and get through.

    The training has gone really well this week – 3 runs and I’m slowly upping the mileage (and time) which is certainly a step in the right direction. I’ve also added some core strength sessions into my training as well – this is something I never did in the past due to time and not really seeing the benefits of it (plus when I was training for triathlons I was doing a lot of swimming and cycling anyway). One of the benefits I am hoping to see is it will help prevent any injuries - this is going to be key when training for an ultra-marathon.

    I’ve read some really interesting articles this week about some elite ultra-distance runners who suffer from mental health issues as well and how running helps them overcome their challenges. It made me reflect quite a lot on how I am feeling and what I am doing to overcome my own personal challenges.

    Thursday I went for a run and really had to force myself out of the door – however once I got out there and started to focus on what I was doing I felt a bit better. I also ran on a slightly different route which I had never been on before which made it a bit more interesting. Also running along the sea-front on a coastal path is pretty good as well.

    One of the things that has always held me back in life I feel is self-doubt and a lack of self-confidence a lot of the time. I look at certain things or situations and feel that I am not good enough. Again I feel that this is about not wanting to get out of my comfort zone at times.  A lot of the time I am really hard on myself and very self-critical feeling I should be better or should be doing more – over time this begins to eat away at me and feeds on the self-doubt and self-confidence.

    I’ve started to realise that training for an ultra-marathon is going to help with this. For a start the only expectations I’ve put on myself are to do the training and get to the finish line – nothing more, nothing less. I’ve run 9 marathons in the past and by trying to make a comparison to my times and my fitness levels from over 10 years ago is unrealistic so I need to focus only on what is ahead of me and not what is behind me.

    By training and entering the event I am taking myself well out of my comfort zone – 26.2 miles is the furthest I’ve ever raced (or ran). In Ironman distance triathlon (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run) the longest I was out on the course was 13 hours 30 minutes.

    I need to look at the training differently now and setting realistic targets along the way – it isn’t just about the miles run or the time am I out training as that is only a small part of it. I need to look at diet, lifestyle, resting (and not getting frustrated with myself as I tell myself I am being lazy – which I am prone to doing), and making sure I am mentally strong as well. Being physically strong is really important but the mind quits quicker than the body. I need to be strong to be able to control the self-doubt and lack of confidence and not just whilst I train but also in the rest of my life as well.

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    Release!

    claire-coe Family Friends Self Harm
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    Firstly… it’s been nearly 2 weeks but I’ve had such a hard week that I just couldn’t bring myself to write anything.

    Secondly… I think this is going to be one of the hardest blogs I’ll write so please bear with.

    So every one has a way of releasing their anger/fear/sadness/depression/anxiety.. whatever it may be, everyone expresses their emotions in different ways. One thing I wouldn’t say I’m ashamed of but more frustrated by is how easily I cry. Whether it be happy tears, sad tears, frustrated or angry tears, they always come thick and fast. When I’m having a particularly bad spell, I question how on earth I haven’t ran out of tears.

    The beginning of this week was SO hard for me, I had just got back from an amazing weekend with my family and had to come back to a very empty and quiet flat with no company. I spent the whole of Sunday evening crying into my dinner… spent a lot of Monday crying at work. I dropped my lunch on the floor and burst into sobbing, ugly floods of tears.

    Anyway… this is one of my releases, crying does help me… it gets that build up out of me. Others may judge and think “Jesus she cries a lot”… Others may even envy the fact that I CAN cry.

    But in the past I’ve had another way of releasing. I first self harmed when I was about 20 years old, I remember it like it was yesterday and remember the reaction of the person I told. Pure disgust.

    I didn’t do it again for a few years as I felt disgusting that I had done that to myself. But… I did it again, and again… and again. I used to be ashamed of the scars on my arm, hide them under sleeves or anything that I could so people wouldn’t judge me. The same with the scars on my legs, will people see them when I go swimming? Will my boyfriend’s think I’m disgusting?

    Through my counselling, I have learned to never, EVER be ashamed of scars. If anyone ever asks me what they are, I will explain. And if anything, I would urge people to ask me.
    Self harming has created this release so strong over the years for me. It gives me something physical to focus on when my head is in such a bad, dark place.

    I haven’t self harmed for a while now and feel proud with every day that I don’t do it.

    I know a lot of my friends have done this before and still do it and they should never be ashamed of that, however I will strongly urge them to find a better release or a better distraction in those times.

    I find now when I’m in that place that going for a walk with Rosie, doing some colouring, reading my book… all these pull me away from the urge.

    To all those reading this, if you ever have the urge to do something like this, please message me/friends/family/call the Samaritans… there are better ways to release.

    xx

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    Brighton!

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    On Thursday I went to Brighton with my old gay mate Nathan. I have been enjoying a week off work, my first since starting my job at Tesco four months ago, so have been catching up with friends and relaxing. Getting Nathan to do anything or turning up somewhere on time can be challenging. As an individual he is probably the most unreliable person I have ever known, but I love him all the more for it. He is one of the closest people in my life today and I always enjoy his company.

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    The last time I went to Brighton was about eight years ago, when Darrell's family from Croatia stayed with us in the UK. The weather then was appalling, yesterday it was gloriously sunny, despite the high winds battering Brighton Pier. I have always loved the 'city by the sea,' having wanted to live there myself. Darrell and I planed to move there many years ago, but with property prices rising, we just couldn't afford the costs involved. Never say never as they say; with mine and Darrell's life currently turned upside down, we really have no idea where we will be tomorrow, let alone six months down the line!

    The drive from Portsmouth to Brighton is always a bit of a nightmare if I am honest. I have never been a person who enjoys travelling anyway, especially when you are being driven by someone at break neck speed; needless to say, I was glad when I finally got there.

    We arrived at the sea front at 2.30pm and made our way straight to the pier. There wasn't a lot of daylight hours left and I wanted to take as many photo's as I could, as per usual. I do take an obsessive amount of photographs, but they are the only things I really cherish these days; they cost me nothing and keep me amused, so I'm not going to stop anytime soon.
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    We sat and had a couple of drinks, briefly chatting about the old days, as we always do, chuckling about various circumstances we used to find ourselves in and remembering some very colourful times. Nathan and I met each other during a period of upheaval and quickly became close. We both have a similar sense of humour and a mutual dislike for some rather dubious characters, who used to pop in and out of our life from time to time. Also we would famously egg each other on, wind one another up and get in some very strange scrapes, all of which brought us closer together!

    After spending an hour at the pier we decided to take a late lunch at Pizza Express, the only time I will ever contemplate eating a pizza. I have never been a fan of the Italian delicacy, but always enjoy eating it in my favourite Italian high street restaurant. Having been to Italy on five separate occasions, the dishes at Pizza Express are the closest authentic tasting pizza you can buy at a reasonable price.
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    After lunch we spent an hour walking around the Lanes of Brighton, something I have never done before. The shops, cafes and restaurants are absolutely out of this World; this is how the British High Street used to be. The bright lights, eclectic mix of art and objet d'art all serve to make this a very special place; I was happy to just browse and pass the time of day. Window shopping was the only pastime on my list. I no longer have anywhere to put things and no matter how much I appreciated the many items on display, I was also able to walk away, no longer a hoarder, just an admirer!

    The Christmas lights were up already in Brighton and although not yet switched on, you can see just how fantastic they will look. As I glanced around at everything, I couldn't help feeling how I wished Darrell and I had moved to this beautiful seaside town. Life for us may well have been different there and if I have a regret in life it is not going here back in the 1990s.
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    Finally before we left for home, it was a quick trip to the Brighton Pavillion, built in 1787 for the Prince Regent, later King George IV. This stunning piece of architecture never fails to disappoint, situated in the heart of Brighton; it was the perfect way to end our day out in this most diverse quintesssential English coastal resort.

    I will certainly be coming back to Brighton as soon as I have the time, I thoroughly enjoyed my day out. Gran Alacant was our Spanish home by the sea, very different to the South Coast here in the UK, but what they both have in common is a sense of freedom and beauty you can only experience when you live by water. As a child I grew up near the sea side town of Lee-on-the-Solent and Hillhead and have always lived along or near to the coast and probably always will. They call Brighton, London by the sea and rightly so. The busy streets echo those of soho and I for one felt very much at home. If you ever get the chance, visit this soulful place. For me, well this is still a dream to aspire to; this time next year, I'll be a millionaire and still wont be able to afford it!
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