On 2015 and making changes

Over the past year I feel like I've let myself down by not looking after myself both physically and mentally. This has manifested itself in so many ways, from neglecting my streaks of grey hair and binging on chocolate to living in jeans and not reading enough.

My usual January routine is to write a huge list of goals I'd like to achieve throughout the year, like 'read 20 books' or 'run a 10k'. But I feel like life has finally shaken me by the shoulders and taught me that to create real and lasting change means not focusing on outcomes but instead addressing the barriers that hold me back: time, lethargy, apathy, confusion... the list goes on.

As I look back over the past 12 months I can't help but feel cross with myself. I finished the year weighing the same as when I started. I've only read a handful of books. I didn't blog like I wanted to. I let myself get consumed with doubt and anxiety and frustration. But I also know that what I need right now is not to berate myself with the 'shoulda coulda woulda' I'm so liable to use as my crutch. If I'm honest and kind to myself I realise that the seas of change swept in and completely decimated my little world in lots of different ways last year, and managing those situations took all my energy and spark.

Here's what I mean.

2014 was the year I reconnected with my dad
I'll keep the backstory short. My dad was an alcoholic (now recovered). We lost touch around 10 years ago. In 2014 after many failed attempts where I tried to reach out, he finally got back in touch. I'd love to say that a tearful reunion led to us skipping off into the sunset together, but the reality is that I had to come to terms with the news that my dad will never skip, or run, or jog again. Four years ago he was diagnosed with stage 3 chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder (COPD), a degenerative and incurable lung disease. What's more, it's genetic (my granny died of it too). I don't feel ready to share the extent of my muddled thoughts on this topic, other than to say that the reunion and the diagnosis both used up a lot of headspace for me this year.

2014 was the year I lost my best friend
Recently I've been eating myself up with anxiety over a friendship that turned sour in the last year. I'm generally a sensitive person and an interminable worrier, so when there's animosity or tension in my life my brain churns it round ceaselessly. It was painful for me to admit that after many years things between me and this person had become strained, one-sided and at times even toxic. Eventually it turned into pursed lips and stubborn silences, and before long 16 years of friendship just melted away. A secondary casualty of this whole horrid mess is that another friend seems to have taken her side, and hasn't responded to my various efforts to get in touch. A while ago I was scrolling through my Facebook feed when some photos popped up of them laughing and hugging, and I felt a pang of hurt at the injustice I feel at being so readily misunderstood. The bad blood between us all upsets me, and it hurts to know that someone out there thinks badly of me.

Cutting ties with London and moving away has prompted me to do some soul-searching over the life I want to lead and the people I want in it. Physical distance from the situation with my friend is one thing, but it's the mental distance - the closure - that I need to focus on. For a long time I hoped for reconciliation, but now I realise that there are just some people who you're not supposed to connect with. Our lives are richer without each other, and my goal is to reach a place where I no longer think about this person. To do this I need to forgive them, forgive myself and wholeheartedly wish them well for the future. Then hopefully I can feel a sense of peace.

2014 was the year I gave up on London
The decision to pack in my job and move 200 miles up north has been pretty momentous. I'm excited, daunted and a little bit scared, and it's going to take a little while until I feel settled in my new house, city and state of mind.

Recently the lovely Alex from Odd Socks and Pretty Frocks asked me to take part in her A Blogging Good Read series, and I was so excited to see that one of the book choices was Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, which has been on my to read pile for as long as I can remember. Over the past couple of years I've stumbled over a few quotes from this book that have resonated deeply with me, and I'm looking forward to reflecting on what it has to teach me about love, friendship and life. A quote from the book: "Sometimes you break your heart in the right way, if you know what I mean.” And I think this has to be true. Finding my dad, losing my friend and moving away have all caused me pain and stirred up feelings and thoughts that have occupied my mind relentlessly. I've counteracted this by distracting myself with busy, busy busy, but in the long run I just feel more confused and more tangled than ever before.

So in 2015 I'd like to interrupt my perpetual sense of busy-ness with moments of reflection, meditation and mindfulness. I'd like to practise gratitude more. I'd like to spend quality time with my friends, look after my body, dress well, be active and nourish my body. My plan is to take it one day, one hour, one minute at a time.

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