This is evidently NOT a post about the London terror attacks…this is a chatty silly post about kids parties and shopping and other light hearted stuffs…but first a bit of heavy stuff.
You may want to know why I am avoiding writing a serious post in the aftermath of the terrorist attack? Well it’s because I don’t really want to add to the media hysteria about it. The only thing I can conceivably do about the terror attacks, as an individual British person, is to ignore it. I know that may sound unbelievably harsh…but hear me out. I cannot personally influence terrorist organisations. I cannot influence world leaders. I cannot bring those deceased back to life again. I cannot undo the trauma of those caught up in it, directly or indirectly. I CAN NOT DO ANYTHING. Things I cannot do anything about I therefore steer well clear of writing about.
I write about mental health/abuse recovery and continue to do so because I feel I can make a real personal contribution there…I do know what I’m talking about, in so far that I have lived experience of mental ill health. I can play my role in destigmatising sharing about life with a personality disorder and PTSD by discussing it openly. I can also support my friends with their mental health struggles (providing I have the time), and I can communicate my ideas in a way people are able to relate to. Ergo, I have a role.
I have to leave terrorism and world politics out of my summerSHINES. I did my personal piece yesterday to my best friend, and that is all I can say on this. I will return (however selfishly it seems) to mental health and the goings on of my life outside the blog. That is my realm.
However before that, in case you are interested, in terms of mental health and the London attack- I have felt triggered in a PTSD sense about the goings on in London. That is why I have not watched a single minute of news coverage. I just refuse. Well-publicised attacks are triggering to our threat systems (to all of us), and having PTSD I already have a threat system which is highly active. I don’t want to see vivid nasty photographs. I have enough vivid traumatic sights in my mind anyway, even on a good day, so I know it is not in the interests of my mental health equilibrium to watch or read upsetting things about other people’s trauma.My brain is already full up, without the upsetting stuff from the media….
I’m crammed full of mind stuff…stuff which is simultaneously in my mind AND about Mind (the MH charity that I volunteer for).
I had a full on and quite lengthy meeting today with the lady I’m working for, and now need to scatter the ashes of the last few days into the blog wind to rid myself of some of the mental and emotional overstimulation chaos.
Heavy stuff OUT. BREATHE.
There is lots going on. Monday was full-on AWFUL, then I had the ‘nearly getting on telly’ thing which acted as a great and unexpected anti-depressant [lol!]. Tuesday was relaxed and creative, and yesterday was productive and social culminating in an after-school kid’s tea party.
A great way to both chill you out and turn you bonkers at the same time is to spend time at a social event with SEVEN KIDS (!) of different ages from 2-10 years.
Going to a kid’s tea party is a HUGE mental health challenge when you have ishoos like me, (which is why I haven’t been to one and stayed for the whole thing) for literally YEARS (while I was really poorly), but yesterday I actually did it! I did the two hour kids party mental health bootcamp-the whole thing! Yaay! #soproud
I survived a kid’s party YAAY!
I came home with a headache but a swollen sense of pride for having remained sane and calm throughout. I did the whole ‘sociable mum’ thing and the ‘small talk’ thing and the ‘nurturing den mother who helped hostess out when various children were crying’ thing… and I did it well. I even had some quality carpet time with the smallest child doing a puzzle which was so cute. The delight when he fitted a piece correctly aw bless.
The only EPIC disappointment was the fact that as part of the whole tea party thing, the kids put their chosen toppings on their home-made pizzas, which I had to watch them prepare, BUT there were only enough pizza bases and room on the baking trays for the seven children and not the poor stressed out adults who were working their arses off to ensure their offspring had a great time in the first place.
THE ADULTS DID NOT GET PIZZA 😦
That was morally wrong in my view 😉 but I will forgive the hostess as she does do a cracking kid’s party. She is totes amaze at her ability to entertain children (which she needs to be, as FOUR of the children at the party were actually hers! wowzer)…and do you know what? After all that, in the end those kids barely touched their bloody pizzas!!!
I could have happily eaten all of them, and watched while little children put their fingerprints on them but didn’t eat them with genuine tension and resentment. I thought however it be equally immoral if I had squirreled away contraband pizza in a napkin and the kids gone hungry.
I did however snaffle several chocolate shells from Lidl and get a piece of chocolate cake so it wasn’t all totally disasterous. Also I seized an opportunity right at the beginning when the pizzas were plated up…#birthdaygirl complained there was TOO MUCH pizza on her plate….and without hesitation I piped up “how about I have a slice and then there isn’t so much darling”…#birthdaygirl stopped crying and I got a piece of pizza 🙌🙌🙌
It was small, but it was pizza-say no more.
I am salivating just in memory of that tiny child-sized piece of pizza. Happy memories.
So that was that…I left their house really happy after a lovely chat with the hostess and even lovelier chats with the kidliwinks.
NEWSFLASH, I forgot to say I had a lovely trip out to Wilkos in the morning before yesterday’s party- to choose a birthday present. Yaay! The topic of shopping for kid’s birthday presents in Wilkos is loosely related to mental health btw, on the basis that Wilko is one of those shops that simply makes my mental health better.
I fucking LOVE Wilko.
Do you have it in your country? If not, you should. It is AMAZE-it is therapeutic shopping at it’s weirdest best. Other shops I’d put in my “weird but therapeutic” category are Aldi (#middle-section/lovely cheap but quality food), Homebase (for eccentric DIY atmosphere) & Ikea (because I like meatballs and am fascinated by those machines that press weights into chairs to test them….I also like stealing miniature pencils and tape measures and long queyes and not being able to get out of a car park or fit my eventual purchases in the car).
Shops that I personally class as therapeutic and NOT weird are, TK Maxx (the homewear section?! FUCK ME it is good!), Waitrose (my supermarket of choice, except the nearest one is 30 miles away and I can’t afford anything in it, but it has a dreamy meditative quality to it when you walk round), Lush (the distinctive smell and the colourfulness, plus the crazy hairstyles of the staff), M&S (comforting- a nice place where it is socially acceptable to chat to old ladies), Next (smells nice when you walk in, everything is glossy and shiny and Nextey).
Finally retail establishments that I HATE because they are actually BAD for my mental health, are Asda (too full of chavs and shit music and very horrendously lit-especially depressing at nightimes after 8pm-makes me want to rediscover self-harm SHOCKING BUT TRUE), Sainsburys (too tango orange, florescent lighting that hurts my eyes, and too many annoying middle-class mums calling their children by pretentious names. Note-I am middle-class but not posh and my kids have normal names), Tesco (I can’t stand Prunella Scales from the adverts, and the lighting and hallucinogenic flooring- OMG!), Lidl (shit food in shit packaging that I wouldn’t give my dogs), Claire’s accessories, especially on a bank holiday Monday (too much little fiddly shit with excessive bows and glitter which is vastly overpriced and shit quality-also heavily populated by children and teenagers), and The Disney Shop (the queue and over enthusiastic staff who try to talk to you).
That was a digression.
On with the show…anyway I had the therapeutic shop at Wilko. At Wilko the excitement begins with the baskets when you enter the store. The shopping baskets are on wheels. I like to creatively visualise I’m mooching around an airport terminal in anticipation of a flight somewhere exotic. At Wilkos you can buy sun cream, sunglasses, inflatables, miniature toiletries and pretty much anything you’d want for a holiday…except clothes. They don’t sell clothes…but they should.
Even the ladies sanitary products are exciting to buy in Wilko. WHY?!…. Because they take up a whole HUGE storage plinth-is plinth the right word? I went in yesterday and was overwhelmed by the magnitude of sanitary products on display! What could be better than this!?! I am always tempted to purchase a whole trolley full as they are so damn enticing in Wilko. In the end I came away with two packs, but by god that was exciting…Things I also purchased-a 3pk of gardening gloves (must weed garden now), new lip balm (cheaper than a spa), toothpaste (Colgate), antibacterial wipes (living the dream there) toilet cleaner (if you need me to explain that then we’re in serious trouble), and then the kid presents. OH SHIT I FORGOT….post-it-notes!! Heart shaped-woop!
Why did I tell you all that?
Well that was yesterday, so now we’re onto today.
I had my meet-up about all things Mind and mental health-esque. It was SHAMAZING!!
I hugged her at the end. I don’t know if she wanted to be hugged but I felt like it so I gave her a hug anyway oops!
This is that moment in a scribble… (!)
Anyway I’m so burned out and tired that I forgot what the point of the post was….and my train of thought is probs bonkers, but who cares?!…:) I’ve totes enjoyed writing it! Hopefully you’ve enjoyed reading it. I may be disabling the commenting more by the way, or not replying and just reading the comments EEK…it is just another thread of chatter that like a kitten with a ball of wool I am getting tangled up in. I need to protect my energy.
I’m trying to get the hang of twatting on Twitter and tweeting on Facefuck so that is draining precious writer resources. I’m double busy.
I dunno what I’m doing or saying.
Why am I here?
I’m only having an existential crisis mid-way through a blog post *eyes pop*
I’m off to untangle. I think my brain is a bit overwhelmed!!!
Love ya X
PS. This is me before my meeting being sensible and silly… 😜