Public training and more cake

The past few weeks have zipped by in a fizz of work excursions and workout DVDs. I have begun my training for Peru in earnest - Jillian Michaels' Ripped in 30 2-3 times per week, mask training twice a week and a long walk as often as possible.

The first public mask outing 

I took my training mask out in public for the first time a couple of weeks ago, much to the amusement of several of my colleagues. Having decided to get their obligatory gimp jokes out the way early on, I donned the head gear and went out during my lunch break to walk the mile or so up to the local church and back.

I should mention that this same week, I had run out of contact lenses and was wearing glasses to work. Now the issue here is that it's not really practical to wear the training mask with glasses since it sits quite high up the nose. At least it does on my face. So there was nothing for it but to venture out into the Kent countryside without them. Picture, if you will, a slight woman with a mask clamped over her face, vaguely unable to see and breathing like Darth Vader. Have I mentioned what a classy girl I can be?

There is, I have decided, only one way to tackle this situation, and that is to be excessively cheerful about it. In what reality was I ever not going to get weird looks pottering round like this? I have a trip to train for, and goddammit, I am using the latest training technology to prepare. That makes me cool. Yes it does.

Of course the feeling of trendy training quickly wore off when I took the mask off my now slightly sweaty face and unexpectedly noted its resemblance to a codpiece. Yes folks, I am running around with a codpiece ON MY FACE. And I am doing so while defiantly maintaining the cheery.

Cake: Round 3

When I started my new job, the first thing I did was to scope out the possibility of holding a bake sale. I'm delighted to report that cake is as popular here as it was at my previous place, and there are lots of people available to eat it! Consequently I am holding a baking fest this weekend to provide around 50 cake-aholics with delicious sugary treats. The girls in my team have also volunteered their culinary skills, which I'm very pleased about! Watch this space for pictures...

Charity tins are fab

Last week I emptied out my Mind collection tin and paid i
n a whopping £90 from the past few months' fundraising efforts, taking my total to over £1100. And still counting!

--edit--

Things I have learnt during the writing of this post: Searching 'codpiece' on Google images is a very bad idea.

Image courtesy of Etsy. I don't want to know why Etsy is selling Renaissance codpieces. 

Saying goodbye and the end of my totally emo existential crisis

This week has been big. Huge, in fact.

This week, I decided to stop having therapy. I didn't know until the day of my last session that I was ready to stop - it was one of those light bulb moments when suddenly you just know. I was driving away from an occupational health assessment, which I had found slightly insulting for reasons I won't bore you with, and it occurred to me that I was utterly sick of talking about my mental health.

During a friend's wedding last month I realised that I have accepted the fact that depression is a part of who I am. It's unlikely to go away, but it's manageable, and what's more, I no longer care about being judged. Because ultimately if someone thinks less of me because of my condition, it's symptomatic of their lack of education and understanding around mental health. It's their problem. In some ways my light bulb moment was the next logical step, but I wasn't expecting it to happen so soon.

muppet.wikia.com

Sat in my session that evening I felt like there was nothing left to say. Nothing to confess to, or to get off my chest. And so my therapist and I agreed it was time for us to part.

It's an odd feeling, saying goodbye to somebody who has basically steered you through the worst time in your life. She knows everything - everything - about me, yet I know nothing about her. I have been weak, vulnerable, ashamed, confused, hopeful and everything in between during our sessions, and together we have unpicked the tangle of thoughts, emotions and experiences that brought me to her in the first place. Saying goodbye was sad and joyful and melancholy and exciting all at once.

In case you're wondering, the part of me is being played by Miss Piggy in the above photo.

On, like, totally finding myself yeah?

www.superfunnyimages.com

It is a cliche, but for some of us there comes a point where we need to reassess who we are, because we need to challenge ourselves, or get a new perspective, or because the person we were just isn't working out for us anymore. There's this idea that to do so, it's necessary to spend a month in silence on an uninhabited island or spiritually connect with a Balinese wise man or something.


I am proof that this is a fallacy. I did not have to spend time in an ashram in India in order to find myself. I did not do it by seeking out a Tibetan fortune teller or a Kalahari shaman. I realised that I could be the person I want to be on a gently sagging sofa in a small room at the local community support centre. I did it by laying myself bare to a complete stranger and allowing her to help me sort through the broken pieces, remove the sharp bits and build something stronger from what was left.

The point, despite what gap year students might have you believe, is that accessing your inner strength and becoming someone you can accept and like is not about helping Cambodian orphans or taking some dubious substance and talking to God. It's about making sense of your past so that ultimately you can leave it behind and step confidently into your present.

And on a lighter note...

I have officially smashed my £1,000 target for the trek, and I still have 4 months to go!!!

sbr.ocsb.ca