Heyy All,
Another Bank Holiday in the UK rules around and yet more of our DIY and general redecoration of our small flat gets postponed. I swear that by the time that we end up getting around to doing something it will probably be time to move into our own home. Finger Crossed 'eh?! As last week I explained that our Landlord, whilst slightly slow at getting anything of necessity done quickly is now in the process of remodelling a kitchen and bathroom so that we have brand new tiles and flooring. With the renovation works due to start next week I am slightly putting off our plans to paint, decorate and generally get on with our own little projects. It seems as though I endlessly talked about the fact that I am nowhere near owning my own home anytime soon and it is a subject matter that most of my friends outside of work also are struggling with due to the fact that there is very little affordable housing being built and what is in existence is very far and few between and hardly affordable when the average wage is in the region of £22,500 per annum. Whilst I spoke of last week about our fifty-something-year-old parents reaping the benefits of having plentiful and affordable housing, a lower cost of living and stable employment with good earning potential I can become frustrated and angry at my situation as I know that there is absolutely no way that I know anyone around me or in fact that of government or higher powers can change anything and the latter to have at the very least made the situation worse.
This coupled with how low and upset I have been feeling over the last few weeks I have sought to find some help in the form of a therapist or counselling. In general my mood has not been great and if anything I have felt extremely cloudy probably since the funeral or maybe even beforehand, what with stress masking my true feelings. I really have not been feeling myself at all lately. I don't feel as sunshine-y anymore and instead I find myself a bit lost all round. I am worried about how quickly this has all come about and as a result I am not waiting for doctor's for a appointment in order to diagnose me with what I think I already have. Depression. Not going to lie I am able to fully function with this going on in the background and I know that there will be the light at the end of the tunnel soon, but Depression is taking away every little bit of happiness or joy that I have left in my life I feel at the moment and I know that it is me and only me that can help get out of the Black Hole I find myself in.
On it's own any of the issues that I spoke about last week would be probably something I could handle fairly well normally, however, I don't suppose that having several massive life-changing events happening all within a couple of months is ever going to be easy to both process and deal with on top of normal day to day life. I know what it feels like and I have been here before, a few times at least. I don't want to seem so blase, but I know that this is just a phase of sorts and that the clouds will soon pass making way for my true self to blossom once again, brightening your days, making you laugh and even cracking a joke or two.
I know not to throw the word depression around like it is nothing. It is. Somehow breaking your leg and clearly having it in plaster makes it easier for people to talk about a illness or injury, but with disorders such as anxiety, depression and other mentally debilitating conditions it is not so easy. You have those that care and ask how you are everyday obviously wanting to hear that you are doing well. But then there are others that don't quite understand just how difficult it is. These types of people will not understand and simply asked you to pull yourself together or to pick yourself up and get on with it. Phrases like this anger me no end as if that was as easy as you are saying then I would simply not be where I am now and comments like this to people suffering from mental illness are detrimentally dangerous to their recovery, infecting the brain with all sorts of thoughts that are unnecessary and unwanted for someone that simply needs your love and support in what can be a very scary and lonely time in their life.
I really think that therapy and counselling will help me as it did last time. I just need to really try and immerse myself in things that made me happy before. Spending time with friends and with family always help improve my mood and lift my spirit when I am down. Talking to someone about the grief and hurt that I have been through the last few weeks and months especially can only help. And who knows what's around the corner maybe I'll have a big Lotto win and be able to have the cars, holidays and house I have always dreamt of.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label A Step Back In Time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Step Back In Time. Show all posts
Monday, 28 May 2018
Monday, 13 November 2017
A Step Back In Time ...
Good Evening,
Walking into the public house, I thought to myself about how you could have quite easily missed bit if you have not been looking. A cold November afternoon wintered on outside as I took off my coat and got settled. Looking around at the compact bar area where many of the local residents drank the afternoon away in merriment I noticed the bunting of red, white and blue, Union Jacks proudly hung from the walls and somewhere there was a picture of the queen hanging proudly for all to see. It certainly didn't take long to hear the beautiful voices of the 30's, 40's and 50's serenading us all into a singsong.
On a quiet and rather unassuming street down by a local park frequented in this day and age by dog walkers and joggers alike, The Devonshire Arms in Bedford's Dudley Street is probably one of my favourite pubs I have been to in a long while. There is something about the place that speaks to an inner, deeper part of my soul that as a twenty-six year old I cannot explain as to why. There was something about this pub, something about this day, Remembrance Sunday, that seems ever so poignant for me. The icy cold air of a November morning awaiting my father and his men (and now some women). The feel of pride that swells within me from my military heritage and background. The absolute sorrow and sadness of those left behind by the brutal snatching's of war and conflict. All balanced out by the warmth I found myself in The Devonshire Arms on Sunday afternoon.
Accompanying my father whilst he collected a generous gift donation from the local boozer, Mr. Warehouse and I, along with the dog as well trundled into the rather busy public house following the Remembrance parade along the river. I had visited the bar a couple of times before, both with Mr. Cheese as our first date and as also an "ultimatum date" in the following spring. It had seemed nice then, both in the height of summer. But walking in here today seemed all the more different. Maybe, as I said before it was the decor and bunting and singers, but a part of me feels the same way about the The Devonshire Arms as I do about the Hotel Victoria from a previous blog post from last year "Newquay - New Life?". You see I fall in love easily (most of the time anyway) more-so with things than people, and strangely buildings are one of them. I seem to resonate with older more Victorian buildings, maybe one of the reasons I am writing to you now from a early 19th Century converted townhouse. I am somewhat fascinated by there history and the moments that their walls saw. I feel there energy and I want to experience and feel the times in which it cried and laughed. And to think that this is all from building's I barely knew.
Maybe more recent films like Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, Allied and Dunkirk have awoken a part of me that lay rather dormant for a while and only now am I exploring its possibilities. Many people, including Miss Tweedle-Dee and I believe in the phenomena that is past life. I would love to go to someone genuine and have my future read, but even more-so my past. I have a deep rooted uneasy feeling about deep water and whilst I love travelling the idea of a cruise makes me more than anxious. Is this because of my fixation with the Titanic as I have done ever since I was small or is this because I maybe was a part of something bigger in my past life? I also have a obsession with murder and horrific crimes including the work (if you can call it that) of Jack the Ripper, Ted Bundy and Josef Fritzl. Does this mean in a past life I had something to fear from these people? Notice how they are all men - Does that mean something? I don't know. I am so intrigued by this that I have begun to look into the possibilities of time slips, past life regression and even Deja Vu focusing on the premise that Deja Vu, at least in one of my opinions, is where you link seemingly unrelated things in your current life with these that you previously did, talked about or that happened in a previous time.
Whatever the reasoning I felt a connection to The Devonshire Arms. Perhaps the atmosphere took me away on the sweet notes of the post-war karaoke and cosy nature of the establishment, or maybe, just maybe. Had I been madly in love with my sweetheart when they were taken to war only to experience the heartbreak when the earth shattering news came back that they were never coming home, forever destined to spend my nights drowning my sorrows at the bar. Was I one of the lucky ones whose soldier came home albeit changed forever but so happy to see me we embraced for eternity. Had I been a mother who lost their son to the battlefield and sat in the corner awaiting the postman, pleadingly with a letter to let her know that her boy was OK, both feeling the screaming horror or tearful joy that may follow. Maybe I was another parent saying preparing my child for a swift goodbye at the station ready for their new life away from the bombings in cities and towns, knowing you may never kiss them goodnight again. Or could I have been the one with the box round my neck and a suitcase to match. Or maybe it is just my fantasy. My Imagination. My Creativity. Whatever it may be, Lest we Forget those fallen ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Walking into the public house, I thought to myself about how you could have quite easily missed bit if you have not been looking. A cold November afternoon wintered on outside as I took off my coat and got settled. Looking around at the compact bar area where many of the local residents drank the afternoon away in merriment I noticed the bunting of red, white and blue, Union Jacks proudly hung from the walls and somewhere there was a picture of the queen hanging proudly for all to see. It certainly didn't take long to hear the beautiful voices of the 30's, 40's and 50's serenading us all into a singsong.
On a quiet and rather unassuming street down by a local park frequented in this day and age by dog walkers and joggers alike, The Devonshire Arms in Bedford's Dudley Street is probably one of my favourite pubs I have been to in a long while. There is something about the place that speaks to an inner, deeper part of my soul that as a twenty-six year old I cannot explain as to why. There was something about this pub, something about this day, Remembrance Sunday, that seems ever so poignant for me. The icy cold air of a November morning awaiting my father and his men (and now some women). The feel of pride that swells within me from my military heritage and background. The absolute sorrow and sadness of those left behind by the brutal snatching's of war and conflict. All balanced out by the warmth I found myself in The Devonshire Arms on Sunday afternoon.
Accompanying my father whilst he collected a generous gift donation from the local boozer, Mr. Warehouse and I, along with the dog as well trundled into the rather busy public house following the Remembrance parade along the river. I had visited the bar a couple of times before, both with Mr. Cheese as our first date and as also an "ultimatum date" in the following spring. It had seemed nice then, both in the height of summer. But walking in here today seemed all the more different. Maybe, as I said before it was the decor and bunting and singers, but a part of me feels the same way about the The Devonshire Arms as I do about the Hotel Victoria from a previous blog post from last year "Newquay - New Life?". You see I fall in love easily (most of the time anyway) more-so with things than people, and strangely buildings are one of them. I seem to resonate with older more Victorian buildings, maybe one of the reasons I am writing to you now from a early 19th Century converted townhouse. I am somewhat fascinated by there history and the moments that their walls saw. I feel there energy and I want to experience and feel the times in which it cried and laughed. And to think that this is all from building's I barely knew.
Maybe more recent films like Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, Allied and Dunkirk have awoken a part of me that lay rather dormant for a while and only now am I exploring its possibilities. Many people, including Miss Tweedle-Dee and I believe in the phenomena that is past life. I would love to go to someone genuine and have my future read, but even more-so my past. I have a deep rooted uneasy feeling about deep water and whilst I love travelling the idea of a cruise makes me more than anxious. Is this because of my fixation with the Titanic as I have done ever since I was small or is this because I maybe was a part of something bigger in my past life? I also have a obsession with murder and horrific crimes including the work (if you can call it that) of Jack the Ripper, Ted Bundy and Josef Fritzl. Does this mean in a past life I had something to fear from these people? Notice how they are all men - Does that mean something? I don't know. I am so intrigued by this that I have begun to look into the possibilities of time slips, past life regression and even Deja Vu focusing on the premise that Deja Vu, at least in one of my opinions, is where you link seemingly unrelated things in your current life with these that you previously did, talked about or that happened in a previous time.
Whatever the reasoning I felt a connection to The Devonshire Arms. Perhaps the atmosphere took me away on the sweet notes of the post-war karaoke and cosy nature of the establishment, or maybe, just maybe. Had I been madly in love with my sweetheart when they were taken to war only to experience the heartbreak when the earth shattering news came back that they were never coming home, forever destined to spend my nights drowning my sorrows at the bar. Was I one of the lucky ones whose soldier came home albeit changed forever but so happy to see me we embraced for eternity. Had I been a mother who lost their son to the battlefield and sat in the corner awaiting the postman, pleadingly with a letter to let her know that her boy was OK, both feeling the screaming horror or tearful joy that may follow. Maybe I was another parent saying preparing my child for a swift goodbye at the station ready for their new life away from the bombings in cities and towns, knowing you may never kiss them goodnight again. Or could I have been the one with the box round my neck and a suitcase to match. Or maybe it is just my fantasy. My Imagination. My Creativity. Whatever it may be, Lest we Forget those fallen ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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