My Athiest Christmas

Somewhere along the line I lost the Christmas magic that I had when I was young. I no longer have the excitement that makes this time of year special. Maybe this is how lots of people feel at this time of year. Maybe not. Maybe I'm just strange.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a scrooge, but there are things about Christmas that annoy me. How Christmas seems to begin around mid-September and drags on and on, so that by the time December rolls around it’s like ‘has Christmas still not happened yet?’. What’s wrong with holding off the Christmas decorations until at least the end of November? There is only so many times you can hear Jingle Bells or I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday before you want to kill somebody. Not exactly in the Christmas spirit really.

And 'works' Christmas parties are a nightmare. I have no objection to going for drinks or a meal with colleagues per se, but I don’t get the ‘but it’s Christmas’ mentality to get completely hammered and act like a wanker. I don’t see why I *have* to drink heavily with people I may or may not like just because it’s Christmas. And everything is three times as expensive (who can afford a £25 meal two weeks before Christmas?). Plus, go out to any town or city the last Friday before Christmas and it's like the monkeys have been let loose with a bottle of Vodka. Mad.

But enough ranting. There are things I do like about this time of year. My family’s Christmases tend to be big, usually fifteen people plus and loud and mad. Christmas to me usually means being packed into a car, literally, unable to move for bags and presents. And with some kind of desert on my lap. Then it means camping out on relatives floors and waking up in a room with two or three other people. Fabulous idea for about 20 minutes until I remember why last Christmas I swore I’d never do it again.

Then there's the cooking. My mum has always been a big baker and every year we spend days baking cakes, gingerbread, mince pies, quiches, anything you can think of! We always have more food than we know what to do with and at any point over the christmas period someone will be in the kitchen grazing on turkey or breadsticks or cheese or gerkins.

I quite like Christmas songs, the traditional ones and carols. Maybe that's where some of the magic was lost to me. When I was young we used to always go to the candlelight carols service at church and it was beautiful and made me feel Christmassy. I don't tend to go to church now, mainly because I developed my own beliefs a long time ago, but I would go to a carol service if I had the chance. But I almost feel ashamed to say it, to me, Christmas isn't about religion. It's about family, gifts, laughter, cold walks, hot meals and fun.

So now Christmas is only a few days away and I don't feel festive at all. I am stressing over the presents yet to be wrapped, packing not done, fridge to be cleaned and work to be completed. Still I'm hoping that come Christmas Eve when I get out of work and head 'home' to my parents it will start to happen. By the time we all gather and the children turn up it will be loud and rumbuncous and 14 conversations will all be going at once, it'll be Christmas once again.

Happy Holidays
S x.

Some people have it worse than me.

So i was listening to Tim Minchin the other day and for some reason “Some people have it worse than I” really resonated with me. Apart from being funny and clever it made me consider my life and has inspired me to try to put into words various thoughts i have. (All quotes Copyright of Tim Minchin).

Please forgive me if this is self-indulgent diatribe.

My life is pretty shit
But I know I shouldn't whinge about it
I could be a Palestinian
Driving buses on the Gaza strip
Yeah how bad can it be?
Some people have it worse than me
I could be a child prostitute
Or Gary Glitter's family
I have no right to cry
Some people have it worse than I
I could be a thalidomide kid
With something in my eye

This section is the part that has stirred numerous feelings I have about my life. I suppose I should start by saying I have FSH Muscular Dystrophy. Even saying that is hard for me because I don’t want to be defined by something I have no control over. But I am defined by it because it’s obvious (and you met me recently, you probably don’t remember but you would if you saw me again). People see the muscle wasting and the lack of facial expression and immediately judge me as mentally ‘not there’. People are surprised to find I have a career, a car, a mortgage, interests and passions. And why not? I see myself as a ‘normal’ person trapped inside a body I can’t control and I’m still trying to find my peace with it.

My life, on a grand scale, is pretty good. I have friends, a great family, money, freedom, I’m not completely unfortunate looking, I am grateful I had a great education and went to Uni. I have travelled the world and seen more things than many people have. People do have it a lot worse than me. I’m a Samaritan so I should know. I’m not homeless or abused or starving. I’m not genuinely afraid for my life or persecuted for my beliefs.

And yet I spend too much time not happy, and I feel guilty for that. I don’t want or expect pity but I am seen as the ‘thalidomide kid with something in my eye’. But that is society’s fault. I know everyone wants a ‘happy healthy baby’ but what if you don’t get that? Does that automatically make you a failure as a person? I’ve always had to fight harder and set myself higher standards to compete in the ‘normal’ world. But what is my alternative? I fight, and I am strong.

That still didn’t stop people encouraging my parents to try to ‘cure’ me. Osteopaths, (how can head massage and manipulation fix mutated DNA?), or the Evangelical faith healer. That was a truly terrifying experience for a seven year old, renouncing Satan and asking Jesus to forgive me in a room of ‘miracles’ of people being healed. It’s not my parent’s fault; they were just trying to do their best. Hence, my disbelief in alternative medicine and blind faith in Jesus and God. God didn’t make me this way, skipping sequences in pre-DNA did. I’m mutated in a bad way; I’m the mirror of Tony the Fish. But I digress.

Whenever I have a bad day I try to concentrate on the positive. The days I don’t know whether I can face ‘the horror of another fucking day’, whether by pain or circumstance, I do. Feeling sorry for myself is not going to help so I might as well do something productive, and if I feel the same at the end of the day at least I have done something. And I just find the appropriate Tim Minchin song and that makes me smile, how can you not listen to ‘Prejudice’ and not smile?

So this has turned into introspective ramblings, and I’m sorry for that.

So my life isn’t so bad, if only I can get people to realise that, and I’ll keep trying not to hate myself. I’ve never really put any of these feelings into words before and it’s interesting to see what I have ended up with.

They say the biggest mistake is giving up. That true strength exists in the will to keep trying. Keep hoping things get better. Keep reminding yourself of all you have accomplished. Keep everything in perspective. Keep up the fight. Because at the end of the day, that’s what you’re left with. The knowledge that you did your best, that you’ll wake up tomorrow and try again.

Ink

So for the longest time I wanted a tattoo. I knew I wanted a daisy chain around my ankle but I never 'got around' to doing it. I was full of excuses; I didn't know where to go, I had no one to go with etc. And I knew my parents would be unhappy, even though I'm a grown up!

Then one day I found somewhere so I thought "what the hell, I'll pop in". So I did and it was just perfect. I found a design that was exactly what I was looking for and the people were so nice. Plus, you hear these stories of seedy, dark, backstreet places - this was just like a hair or nail salon! Perfect.

So I had it done and it didn't hurt at all, just scratching. I swore that was all I wanted, but two years (to the day, weird!) I found myself back there. This time, stars on my wrist, an idea which just came to me and covers up the marks of my past (but that's another story).

Now I want more, but I'm trying to resist. And I must stop watching Miami Ink cos it's giving me ideas!!!

But I think tattoo's are amazing and an severely underrated art form. For a start the artist must be phenomenal, you can't just start again, and the range of skill is incredible. Your work is permanent, forever, it's not so easy to change later. But the thing I admire most is the meaning behind them. People rarely get tattoo's purely because they like them or like a design. They all have an individual and personal meaning; freedom, remembrance, memoriam, strength, honesty, survival. All creative and powerful.

And so I wrote this poem (please bare with me as I don't tend to write poetry and it needs work)...

Sterile as an operating theatre
Artists brushes, instruments of pain
Black leather chairs and wooden chairs
Beauty salon of contrast

Grotesque artwork made beautiful by talent
Flesh as a permanent canvas
Ink black, vibrant colours
Bringing together depth and perception

Buzzing, the forms take life
Silent pain scratching at memories
Tribal, Celtic, Oriental, Floral
Symbols silently speaking a thousand words

Individual, decorative insignias of strength
Freedom, a snapshot of time
A journal on skin
Walking away with an indelible mark of life

Hello!

Welcome to my blog!

I have had a lot happening recently and really have nowhere to discuss it, vent or generally ramble on, so here I am!

At this point I genuinely have no idea what I am going to write. It may be random thoughts, stuff I have done or links to sites which I find interesting.

Any imput or comments gratefully received.

Let the stream of consciousness commence...

Love me x