Swim, big fishy, swim!

On Tuesday 25 March I’ll be swimming 3km to raise money for a local charity.  That’s only two days away.  Two!  Oh bugger!

When I made the decision to do the swim I didn’t really think it through fully.  I have a habit of seeing a light bulb appear above my head, and whatever idea is sitting there in that bright, and sometimes rather misleading light, I take hold of it and I run as fast as I can.  Somewhere in the dark recesses of my unusual mind I think I can outrun sense and logic, when in actual fact I can’t even run for a bus.

I was originally inspired by the Sport Relief Swimathon, and while I was procrastinating (very probably in the hope that if I did that for long enough there would be no spaces remaining in the swim) it appeared that my sister was considering doing it, too.  It turns out that we’d also been thinking of doing our own swim so that we could each raise money for local charities, instead of our sponsorships ending up in a big pot with no idea who it might be helping.

I confess that part of my reason for being unsure about the official Swimathon was the number of people who would be swimming at the same time.  I’m someone who would rather be the slow one in the lane letting other people past, than the quicker person who feels like she’s fighting her way past the painfully slow, frustrating people.  And it would be choppy!  Someone who did a previous Swimathon actually reported that she’d felt a lot of motion sickness due to the large number of people contributing to the extra movement of the water!

So all things considered, it felt right to find a way to complete the swim in a different pool away from the hordes in their mandatory, unattractive swimming caps.  I hate those, by the way.  Not because they’re unflattering, but because I love the feeling of the water rushing through my hair.  And they make me feel too hot.  Yes, okay, it’s partly because they’re unflattering.

My sister worked her magic and found us a location to swim, which means I’ll be joining her in Sheffield.  The bonus here doesn’t just involve extra family time and having the support of someone who ‘gets it’, but also the possibility of a recovery Jacuzzi afterwards.  Are you reading this, sis?  Don’t forget… Jacuzzi!

It’s well known amongst our wider family and our friends that we’re a competitive family.  I don’t think my in-laws had the full grasp of just how competitive we can become before they joined our family, but it didn’t take long for them to realise.  From backgammon and scrabble in holiday sunshine, to SingStar and poker in gin and whisky induced states, we play to win.  We always have and we always will, and it will be taught down the generations that this is a positive thing.  But we also have a sense of pride, and while we are (usually) humble winners, we’re also (usually) gracious losers, and this will be taught, too.  So upon realising that for the first time I’d be achieving something alongside a sibling instead of competing against her, I didn’t know quite what to do.  It hadn’t happened before, working together like this!

What transpired was that we’re really rather good at being mutually supportive.  Emails and texts here and there to check on progress, and encouraging, “get yourself there, you’ll feel better for it” moments helped immensely.  I have to admit to a tiny bit of competition in the early stages.  One text from my sister told me she’d managed 70 lengths, and my immediate (though not vocal) response was to attempt to swim 80!  I did it, too, and at that time it was a personal best.  I quickly reported back to her about reaching 80, but my achievement was short-lived when 150 was announced.  So that was that, defeat admitted and the only person remaining to compete against was me.

Since that day I’ve made a conscious effort to concentrate purely on myself in the water.  It’s ridiculously easy to start trying to push past my boundaries depending on who’s swimming around me.  Do the slow pensioners spur me on?  Nope, not in the slightest.  Does the nice bloke I see intermittently with a cheery good morning and on whom, I admit, I do have a teeny crush, spur me on?  Hell yes!  It’s been a while since I’ve seen him and I want him to see how much I’ve improved!

Oh dear.

I’m a lot more controlled now with my training, though.  I’ll be swimming 3km.  That’s 120 lengths of a standard 25m pool.  It’s not a sprint, not by any stretch of my imagination (and I think by now we all know I have an active imagination!), so focussing on endurance has been key.  Pushing through the initial pain in my arms and shoulders has been my biggest hurdle, but I know it’s possible because I’ve done it over and over.  It wasn’t until I started swimming again this year that I realised how much pain I have in my fingers, so instead of whinging about that and making excuses, I found exercises and different positions to help and now, during the swim at least, my digits are significantly less stiff and sore.  Back pain is present all day, every day (and has been for decades), just to varying degrees.  Instead of making the excuses that I used to, I’ve adapted my sessions to cause the least stress possible and aide quicker recovery.  Just changing most of my swims from mornings before work to evenings has helped.  My back has had time to ease itself out of the initial scream of the morning, and even just five minutes in the Jacuzzi makes a huge difference to my mobility afterwards.

Small adjustments to my training, a highly competitive streak and the stubbornness not to let something beat me have all allowed me to reach the point at which I am today.

When I first started this challenge I decided to swim 2.5km (100 lengths).  Well, I’ve reached that goal twice and the second time was less physically stressful than the first so I started to think, ‘okay, I’ve got to 100 but can I reach 120?’.  That right there is my competitive side channelled where it should be; towards me.

Now the words of Sharon Gayter, an ultra distance runner in Teesside who recently spoke at International Women’s Day, keep going round in my head.  She spoke of how she started running.  A colleague gave her a pair of running shoes and she decided to try knowing she wouldn’t get very far.  Her first attempts barely saw her manage a mile, but she kept trying and she kept moving her goal just a little step further away.  One day she would run one mile, but with perseverance she was running two, then three, then four, until now… she holds countless world records for running across countries and up mountains, and that’s only the start!  All because one day someone gave her the right shoes, she put them on and she tried.

So that’s why I’ve moved my challenge from 2.5km to 3km.  I know I can reach 2.5, now I want to see not whether I can reach 3 (because I know I can), but what time it takes me to reach 3!  I know it’s likely to be around the same time as my sister swims 5km, and that’s absolutely fine by me.  I’m not swimming against her, I’m swimming with her.

Today my shoulders are aching and I often have the remainder of 'chlorine headaches' , but they pass quickly enough.  Each time I stand up my legs ache in the only way they can when the muscles have been worked harder than they can ever remember, and that’s fine because I know it’s the best kind of ache.  Every shift and shuffle in my chair, and every stretch, reminds me that my back is suffering, but that’s fine because it’s a different kind of suffering; it’s a good exercise ache that’s slowly overpowering the broken ache that I’ve felt for so many years.  These are all aches that may never disappear entirely regardless of how fit I become, but while I feel them they’re reminders that I’m doing something good for myself so I’ll just keep going.

I’m not superwoman and I never have been, I’m just a normal (erm… ‘normal’) person with aches and pains like everyone else.  For now, I choose not to let those aches and pains beat me, and instead to push them over and stamp on them with a huge steel toe capped boot and let them know who’s boss.  I choose to do this while begging people for money so that my local chosen charity can help a few more people put their lives back together.  I have no doubt that I’m annoying people with my repeated requests for money, but I don’t care.  Don’t look, block me, or sponsor me so I’ll shut up and go away.

I don’t think for one moment that this is the last swimming challenge I’ll set for myself.  In a few weeks I’ll need to take a break from it while minor surgery on a toe heals properly, and I already know that it’s going to mentally challenge me not to be underwater for a while.  I’ll even miss trying not to see old men’s bits in their ill-fitting trunks, and avoiding facial contact with suspect-looking random things floating in the water, and I’ll need to find a way to keep these dodgy bones and muscles from relaxing too much and getting used to doing nothing.  I can’t do nothing.

I know it sounds cliché, but I’ve discovered a few things about myself in the last month that I didn’t know, and I like what I found, and that’s just from a little swimming challenge that many people could probably already do with barely a second thought.  For me, though, it’s already an achievement and I haven’t even completed it yet.

Two years ago when I started swimming again after a break of about 20 years I was tentative and slow.  I kept my head above the water because submerging my face terrified me, and my hair hardly became wet at all.  My first visit to the pool saw me swimming 12 lengths in the same time it takes me to swim 60 now.  I swam like my mother, scared and hesitant.

Today I will put on my goggles, take a deep breath and glide under the water (as much as an overweight girl in polyester and elastane can glide) for most of the time I'm there, and I'll enjoy every moment.  There was a point at which I didn’t want to be scared anymore, and I read advice and watched youtube videos to find the best ways to breathe while swimming, to improve my stroke and hopefully make the whole experience something to anticipate instead of dread.  It only took a few weeks to teach myself not to be scared of being under water, and I haven’t looked back since (well, perhaps at the nice bloke who spurs me on!).

I suppose what I'm trying to say, albeit in a long-winded way while asking for money(!), is that I’m just one normal person in a world full of normal people.  We can all do these things if we really want.

Any one of us can climb a mountain if we only take that first step.

If you’d like to sponsor me you can do so here: http://www.virginmoneygiving.com/KirstyBaillie

The page will be open for donations for a month after the swim, so if you’re reading this afterwards it would be lovely if you would click on the link and give as much as you can.

The local charity is My Sister’s Place in Middlesbrough.  You can read all about them here: http://mysistersplace.org.uk/

Valentine's Day, or "I love myself"

Tonight I went to choir, and as well as a sense of belonging and happiness I also came away with an idea for a new blog post. This one isn't about choir, I promise!

Almost every year around this time I get a little more snappy or voice my opinions a little more forcefully than usual (More? Really? Yes!). My dislike of Valentine's Day doesn't stem from spending most of them alone despite how that may come across. I had a ten year relationship and six year marriage, and for a few years I long-distance dated a truly lovely Dutchman (and let's not forget the occasional short lived boyfriends), and yet in the last 25 years only once has anyone got this day right.

I still have one rosebud, dried of course, from the stunning bouquet of red roses that unexpectedly arrived from across the water three years ago. This isn't just sentimentality, nor is it a token of desperate fantasy that the relationship can be rekindled. This is about remembering that sometimes someone will just get it right. Completely out of the blue people will surprise you. They can appear from nowhere and take your breath away, and that's definitely something I want to remember!

But tonight during choir it was brought to my attention, albeit in a fun teasing way, that I'm a tad angry about 'V-day'. Cheers, Mr M! I don't mind. I can't mind; it's true! And yet for the most part I strive to be cheerful, to find the good things in life, to notice the beautiful and recognise the generosity in other people. So how can I turn this around?

Yesterday I returned two tickets that I won for a 'V-day' screening of Ghost at the fabulous Stockton Arc, because as tempting as it was I couldn't bring myself to go alone. It wasn't a depressing thought, I do things like this on my own all the time, it was more the knowledge that I'd feel uncomfortable. To many people I appear confident and bubbly, but truth be told deep down inside I'm still the shy wreck I was at 15, I'm just very practised at hiding it now!

I could treat 'V-day' like any other and do nothing at all, but most women (and a lot of men) have to admit that deep down we still feel a little sad or unloved. So instead, this Friday, I shall be loving myself.

Bear with me!

I don't feel obliged to book an expensive restaurant.  I don't feel pressured into buying a gift for someone that he probably isn't that bothered about receiving (teddy bears with hearts, anyone?!). I don't have to give a back massage until my fingers ache. I don't have to share chocolates and watch while he takes my favourite, pretending it's okay. I don't have to compromise on the DVD I watch. I could go on...

I don't need validation from anyone that I'm special, although it's been pointed out many times while surreptitiously dialling Roseberry Park! Someone posted a message on Facebook a few days ago that said, "If you're alone on Valentine's Day, remember no one loves you the rest of the year either."  Wow. Cheers. Um... I know it's meant to be humorous, but really? Kick us folk while we're down, why don't you?

Well, regardless... I love myself! I will love myself every day of the year even when I'm being a cow, and I will especially love myself on 'V-day'!

I will get any take-away I want and devour it all myself.

I will watch any TV programme or DVD I want, and keep ownership of the remote.

I will eat my favourite chocolates.

I will buy myself flowers.

I will randomly watch the new Cadbury advert just because he's my new strange crush and it makes me smile.

I will keep all the duvet to myself and wake up the next day knowing that at least I don't have someone else's morning breath to deal with.

Will I still have moments feeling slightly sad? Yes, probably. Will I let it depress me or make me angry? Nope.

I love my life and who I am, and I know that one day someone else will, too. In the meantime I shall love myself and be proud of who I am.

So to anyone else who's facing 'V-day' alone...

Stuff the rest of the world just for one day.  Go ahead, people; love yourselves! Just perhaps avoid doing it in public, yeah?

New Year, New You?

For a lot of years I haven’t made any New Year’s resolutions because I know that I, like countless others, don’t stick to them.  We have a habit of making up endless excuses for not achieving what are often unrealistic goals, we make ourselves feel bad and we’re ultimately less likely to make the positive changes we either feel we need to make or should make.  I believe if someone wants to make a change in their life, they’ll do it regardless of the date, and that ‘need’ or ‘should’ no longer come into the equation; it’s want.  I know from my own experience alone that if I want something badly enough I’ll find a way to do or get it.  Obviously there are exceptions; men usually run faster than me, and I’m told I’m not allowed to lock them in a cupboard if I ever do catch one!

This time last year I made a list of things I wanted to achieve in 2013.  Some of them fell by the wayside, others were realised with absolute joy, and gradually as the year went on some things were tagged onto the end of the list because they were wonderfully pleasant surprises that I can’t ignore.  Those things tagged onto the end of my list in particular helped me to become the person typing this blog today.  The person who wants more from life.  The one who wants to do things for other people, to find something fulfilling to do with my days while still being able to pay the bills.  The girl who is no longer content to watch others live their lives and wants to get out there and bloody well fight for every new day!  It’s not at all that I’m about to turn 40.  Nope.

In 2013 I found Stockton Town Choir, without which I would go stir crazy.  I know this because a few weeks off over Christmas has me feeling restless and a little uneasy.  I’ve previously said it’s my weekly pilgrimage, and it’s breaks like this that make me realise how true that’s become.  The events and performances we did last year were surprising, varied and wonderful.  From the positive vibes of #smile on Stockton High Street, to moving, thought provoking tunes in Stockton Library for their WW1 event, to fabulously festive songs at the Stockton Christmas lights switch-on, and not forgetting the rousing sing-alongs at the Storytellers pub and unofficial carol singing for little charity events, which let’s be honest, are never ‘little’ to the people they help.

Friendships have been made through Stockton Town Choir that were entirely unexpected.  There are so many varied personalities, cultures and values, but we’re all brought together by common purposes; to sing, to smile, and to help others do the same while (hopefully) helping them to recognise their town isspecial and the heart is still there.

Through the choir I also, of course, found Matty’s Bistro, and I’ve been able to see just how much some individuals are willing to do to help others; selfless acts that while perhaps seeming small to the person at the time, are huge to the people they help.  I was privileged to help out one day, and I asked one of the young people who’d finished the course only the day before what he’d be doing at that very moment if he wasn’t helping Matty.  He shrugged and said, “Probably just sat watching TV”.  As he said that he looked both a little embarrassed about the answer, but very proud of the fact he wasn’t sat at home in front of the TV.  This young man went on to paid work straight from Matty’s Bistro, and he’s only one of many.

I managed to get some extra kitchen time in, and attempted many of the Great British Bake Off technical challenges, all of which were auctioned to raise money for Matty’s Bistro.  I didn’t expect to raise more than double figures, but the final sum was £275.  It’s testament to the generosity of so many people out there, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for digging deep, and in some cases crazily deep into your pockets.  Repeatedly.  I have to admit to being a little nervous of an invasion of moths when my poor, long-suffering dad opened his wallet, too!

I went completely against the grain and danced.  In public.  With TV cameras all over the place.  I spent six hours in the baking sun on Stockton High Street while Diversity and their dedicated crews of local people with more energy than sense(!) street-danced us into exhaustion.  And we danced.  By ‘eck did we!  I even did this with bright orange hair whilst halfway through a hair colour change.  If I don’t spot me in the crowd with my orange hair-helmet and my bright red face, it will be a miracle.  Or a blessing.

My life throughout 2013 has felt enriched and full.  I’ve achieved more than I expected, experienced things I never thought I would, met people without whom my life would definitely be duller and sadder than it is, and discovered things about myself I never knew.  I can only hope that 2014 will be half as lovely as 2013, and that I can overcome some more fears, meet more wonderful people, and help others to smile more and achieve more, too, even if that means pretending to be a French Hen in a Stockton shop doorway with a dozen other giggling/singing/mostly giggling people.  The video is out there.  Somewhere…

I haven’t yet made a list for 2014.  If truth be told I’m a little nervous that the things I want to do will be just too big to reach, and that I’m not capable of jumping that high.  But then I realise that as much as I want positive changes for myself (and in turn, others), I don’t actually know what or how to get there.  So I suppose the top of my list should be to figure out what in the world I want to do!  Something that enriches my life, I hope.  Something that makes me feel like I’m doing something good.

So I don’t really have a list for 2014, but I do have a feeling.  I have a feeling that the best is yet to come.  I think light, love and success are just around the corner, but not without hard work, motivation and a good kick up the arse occasionally from some well-meaning friends!

I’ve been blessed in 2013.  From the singing, dancing, baking and cooking, all the way to the heartfelt hugs from my nieces and the support from my family.  And winning Monopoly on Christmas Day.  Let’s not forget the important things, too!

I hope you find your way through 2014 with smiles, laughter, love and a few devoted arse-kicking friends!

Here’s to us, and to what we’re about to achieve…

Awe, onions & a sense of pride

In the space of eleven months my life has turned from fine but mostly mundane, to lovely. Delightful, even.  I could never have imagined the first night I braved going along to Stockton Town Choir, that I would come to this now; wonderful friends, a real sense of belonging, and a need to help others and be the best version of me that I can.

Today I had the privilege of working with Matty and some of the kids from Matty's Bistro. When I say privilege I say it knowing that it doesn't come close to expressing how I feel right at this moment.  In our world now we take what we can. I'm generalising, and I know that it's not the case everywhere we turn, but if we're completely honest with ourselves we'll all admit to loving a freebie. I know I do! Very rarely do we have the opportunity to step into someone else's world and appreciate how some of the perks we're lucky to have in our lives come about.

Over the last few months I've come to realise that I want to help people. Most of the time I don't know how, but little by little opportunities arise and chances are taken, and I find myself in absolute awe of the people who work tirelessly to make other people's lives better. These are people who do so much for others that it becomes a way of life. It's not a one-off. It's not a flash in the pan. It's just what they do because they want to help.

Well, today I helped and it felt, and still feels bloody marvellous. Where Mike McGrother is a force of nature working like a Trojan and passionately shouting from the rooftops about his beloved town, Matty Brown is a silent worker bee, flying here there and everywhere, working quietly in the background and with a calm poise that the Dalai Lama would be proud of.

My privilege of working with Matty and those fabulous kids today is not understated. Where Matty works to give them skills to take with them into new working lives, that could never happen were it not for the enthusiasm and dedication of the young people who just want to make their own lives that bit better. Our young people are so often criticised for being wasters; lazy scroungers who expect everything for nothing, and yet tonight I watched some of these young people working harder than I see most adults achieve, and it's not their living. It's their training, their chance to make a positive change in their lives. And by hell, they're going for it!

I hope beyond hope that these opportunities don't disappear. I hope that funding doesn't dry up and that the people who can help to keep such things running don't turn their backs. I hope more and more people learn to have faith in the youngsters who are unfortunately labelled as no good for no other reason than society has been taught to believe that that's what they are, and so often by a media who doesn't take the time to discover who they are at all. I can tell you now that I won't look at any of these kids in such a bad light again. Instead I will open up enough to see the potential in them and the drive they have deep down inside to make their lives better and their futures brighter.

I salute the dedication of these young adults, and I sit here in awe of the power of one person who just wants to help.

Today was indeed a privilege, but it was also an inspiration. One person really can make a difference.

Bring the Happy - Memory 2628

It was our first date.  My partner and I went to see Stacey Kent at Stockton Arc.  She's a jazz singer whose voice is sublime, and we both adored the sound of her flawless tones.  I'd booked the very top balcony, the one with only one row that feels as though you're sat at a bar.  No one else had booked the balcony, and so we sat hand in hand, snuggled up together, losing ourselves to the beautiful music.

When I heard about Bring the Happy back in August it was through the Arc's website.  I instantly fell for their idea; to set up camp in a town or city, to collect happy memories and to make a show from some of the memories they hear and read.  I needed to know no more about who they were, why they were doing it or how, I only knew that I had to leave a memory and see the show.  So I booked my ticket and waited.

As the songs washed over us one after the other I gradually became more and more nervous. I can vividly remember the butterflies inside me as the evening drew on, and the later it became the more I wanted to ask him to dance with me. I was never a confident person, always rather shy (though better at hiding it these days), but I knew I had to ask. Eventually, when the final song was announced, I somehow found the courage to ask. I knew that if I didn't, we would never have this moment again; not here, not with this stunning music and our new, exciting love. And so, with butterflies dancing in my tummy and goosebumps from head to toe, I took his hand in mine, which by now was shaking, and I asked him to dance. And for those few minutes What a Wonderful World it truly was.

I sometimes feel like a bit of a fraud, you know.  I joined Stockton Town Choir having never lived there (although I did work in Stockton on and off over a few years).  I so badly wanted to leave a memory for Bring the Happy despite not being a resident.  Having been part of the choir for ten months and performed in various Stockton settings for so many wonderful reasons, even just to make people #smile, I was having a tough time picking a memory.  I have so many that make me smile that I could have spent all day in the Bring the Happy shop.

I didn't leave a choir memory in the end.  I couldn't.  I just kept returning to the same memory of My Flying Dutchman and me.  It wouldn't leave me alone, not since the moment it happened, and so I really had no choice.

To this day I don't know whether Stacey Kent and the band noticed us up there on the balcony dancing to their dreamy, romantic music. I do know that the song finished much too early and it was suddenly time to leave. We walked arm in arm, as we always did, to the high street to get a taxi home. I'd like to think it was our obvious romantic aura, but I knew deep down it was probably the same thing he said to every couple who entered his cab, but he welcomed us, "Mr & Mrs Perfect". As he drove us back to Middlesbrough he asked whether we had any children.
No, no children, and we're not married.
Oh, well then, no you should be married before you have children, and they will be beautiful children for Mr & Mrs Perfect of course!
And so went our conversation, and all the while we laughed and snuggled in closer together in the back seat of the taxi.

I didn't go to the Bring the Happy shop.  I was lucky in that the lovely people of Invisible Flock came to choir one Wednesday a couple of weeks ago, and so I left my memory that night instead.  I hurriedly typed it into an iPad because I knew I should already be in the Georgian Theatre getting ready to sing!  So I gave the briefest of accounts, while hopefully still getting the feelings across.  I didn't want to tell my story in front of others who knew me; it was private.  At the same time it was so important to me that it couldn't go untold.

It was our last ever date, though neither of us knew it. We'd been together for a few years; a weekend here and there when our diaries happily synced and flights between The Netherlands and here were available. Stolen moments, it seemed, and so few of them that it was always painful waiting for the next. But it was our last ever date, and there we sat in Stockton Arc again. We watched a comedian, but to this day I'm certain My Flying Dutchman only understood half of the jokes. And as though no time had passed, we sat side by side, arm in arm, always so very much together.

Finally last night, 01 November 2013, the first of the three shows in Stockton Arc arrived.  Armed with the memory still vivid in my mind, the knowledge that I was so very close to that spot on the balcony, and with a lovely friend at my side, I sat down full of excitement and anticipation.  I knew the show would be wonderful, but I had no clue what was to come.

We walked arm in arm, as we always did, to the high street to get a taxi home.  As we entered his cab he welcomed us, the very same taxi driver we had on our first date.  He beamed as though he recognised us, and he called us Mr & Mrs Perfect all over again.  He didn't ask the same questions; he really did seem to remember us, but of course he couldn't.  It was all just the same things he says to every couple, surely.  As before, all the while we laughed and snuggled in closer together in the back seat of the taxi.

It was our last ever date, though neither of us knew it.

To explain what happens in performances of Bring the Happy would be to spoil it for those who have yet to experience it, and I won't do that.  I will say that I laughed, smiled, cried, laughed, sang (quietly!), danced, laughed, cried some more and smiled and laughed again.  Bring the Happy is an experience, not a show.  It's something truly special that I do believe makes our world just that little bit brighter.  Their whole presence, their chats with people about their memories, they all add to the Happy.  The performances that culminate from the few weeks collecting memories is just the icing on the cake.

My Flying Dutchman and I still talk.  We're still friends.  We still have a great amount of love for each other.  We both know, however, that this is how it will remain.  No more occasional weekends or 'stolen moments'; not for two years (almost to the day).  A friendship that will never disappear has replaced a relationship that was never meant to be, and that's okay.  It was always going to be this way, and we always knew that.

Then last night happened.  Bring the Happy was everything I hoped for and more, and at the end when the applause had died down, and with emotions still raw from the rollercoaster, I picked up my phone and checked my messages.  What I saw was an email sent just moments after the performance began.

Sent: 19:03
From: My Flying Dutchman
The message simply read: For some reason... I had to think of you :) X

All I could do was cry.  They were happy tears, tinged with sadness too of course, but happy nonetheless.  My friend knew something had pulled at my heartstrings, but there was no way she could know what or how deeply it affected me.  I'd told her my memory before the show started, and now I showed her the email.  She hugged me and I cried some more.  I had complete strangers looking over wondering what was wrong.  Some of them asked if I was okay.  I wasn't... but at the same time I was...

I pulled myself together and knew I had to tell the performers what had happened.  I almost felt obligated!

I recounted my little tale to Ben.  I briefly told him the memory I'd left, that every now and again during the evening my mind had wandered back up to the balcony above me, and I showed him the email.  And as I spoke it was all I could do not to cry again.  But I held it together, and a goosebumpy Ben gave me a hug, and as I was about to go back to my friend he told me that the next day he'd use my memory and he'd tell people what happened that night.  He didn't know I'd already decided to come back the next night, and I knew that now I absolutely had no option but to book the tickets!  I returned to my table and my friend, sat down, and breathed ever so deeply.  Lots.

As I laid in bed trying to get my overactive brain to settle, I decided when I returned for the next performance that I would take something along to say thank you to everyone involved in Bring the Happy... Ben, Rich, Victoria and Hope & Social, the fantastic band who played and sang all evening.  Only they themselves know their reasons for touring with the show, but I know the effect it can have on one person.  When I think about how many people they must have talked with over three weeks in an empty shop on Stockton High Street, I realise how many lives they must have touched and smiles they returned to otherwise sad, frustrated or even just bored faces.

Invisible Flock... the trio behind Bring the Happy... seem to me to be extraordinary people.  They carry with them not only a need to put on a wonderful interactive performance, but also a desire to make the world a nicer place, and I can absolutely relate to that.  I know that the things I do for people are tiny in comparison; giving away cakes, putting extra money in a parking meter for the next person, leaving a little note for a colleague to show they're appreciated, they're all small things, not huge gestures designed to change the world or how people think.  They're all just things to make people smile and feel valued even if they don't know who's done it or why.

So tonight when I returned to Stockton Arc for a second helping of Bring the Happy, I was prepared.  I was armed with cakes and extra tissues, and a huge appreciation for their hard work and the ethos that drives them forward.

Tonight, 02 November 2013, there I sat with some more friends.  This time I was familiar with the songs, I knew what was coming and yes, my mind still wandered up to that balcony.  Then in the middle of one of the songs was my memory.  It was paraphrased, but to me it was perfect.  The memory, some little details I'd never mentioned in the original typed version from two weeks previous, and the email from the night before; it was all there.  As I sat and listened I cried again, as I'm doing now, for the butterflies I felt, for the taxi driver I may never see again, but mostly for the friendship I have despite the relationship I lost.  And I felt privileged that he believed our little story should be told.  I felt special.  I felt significant in a town full of epic, splendid stories and it made me smile through my tears.

At the end of the evening I found Ben and I handed him the thank you cakes, and such an unexpectedly grateful face I have never seen before.  After a short chat I returned to my table to simply enjoy the company of my friends for a few minutes before heading home.

Invisible Flock, Hope & Social and a few little cakes

A few minutes had passed, perhaps more than I'd intended, and I looked up to see Ben approach the table.  He presented me with one of their CDs as a thank you for the cakes I'd given that were a thank you for... well... everything!  I think perhaps this time it was he who was looking on a face that was unexpectedly grateful!

It's at times like that I realise kindness and generosity of spirit really are infectious; it's passed on like a virus.  I know I've said it before, regularly, that if you're kind even just to one person that it makes a difference.  It doesn't only make a difference to that one person in that one moment.  No, they're likely to pass the kindness on to someone else, and then the next and the next, and before you know it you've begun a chain of nice events, however small, that brighten people's days.  These acts of kindness spread so quickly that before you realise what's happening you're playing a CD in the car on the way home from a show, when all you really wanted from the evening was to hear your story being told and to say thank you to the people doing the telling.

I'm not saying we should be nice so that others are nice in return, because that's just not how it works.  Genuine kindness breeds genuine kindness.  It doesn't matter whether we know people, whether they're family and friends or whether they're complete strangers.  They might just be people you met in a theatre in Stockton when you were meant to be singing.

And not to forget our memories.  They're what the whole performance is based on, after all; the memories of everyday people doing everyday jobs, with everyday worries on their minds.  Our actions and the memories that spring from them help to shape who we are right here, right now.  Whether it's the day I met my first boyfriend, the day I left my husband, the day I hugged my dad in the hospital corridor after racing to see mum when we got 'the call', or whether it's having the courage to swallow my shyness and hand over a box of cakes to people I don't know just to say thank you.  All of these things and countless others made me into the person I am right now, the one typing these words into her laptop with a pounding headache and a big mug of coffee because she stayed up until 2 am writing most of this blog post.

Bring the Happy is astounding if you open yourself up to its message.  I will never forget the last two evenings in Stockton Arc.  They've been added to my collection of happy memories in permanent marker.  In triplicate, just in case.

If you can't bring the happy into your own life, I hope you have someone close-by who can help.  If you don't, I hope you can find a way to ask someone.  If you feel so inclined, bring it to someone else and do it without agenda.  You'll be thankful that you did, and your smile will be so big and deep inside you that it'll become addictive.  This is one addiction with which I'm glad to be afflicted!

We all deserve to smile, even if it's through our tears.

Me with My Flying Dutchman - 2010
Stacey Kent - What a Wonderful World

Invisible Flock
Hope & Social
Bring the Happy

What do you want?

It’s an easy thing to answer; what do you want? Everyone wants something.  Most people want more than one thing.  A few want a seemingly endless list of stuff, fulfilled dreams and fairytale endings.  But do you know why you want what you want?

Consider this.  A relationship ends, and you pine and pine and pine for your lost love.  You feel as though you’d do anything to get them back.  In this technological age we can never fully leave someone behind.  It’s almost impossible not to see their presence somewhere; facebook, twitter, emails, the endless number of apps on our phones and tablets.  The process of grieving for a lost love, the one who got away, and eventually the realisation that you’re finally over it, can take what seems like forever.  Some people never find their way through.  Is this a side effect of our technological advances?  If someone is never really out of sight, how can they be out of mind?  Rewind the clock thirty years and you may well find that pining doesn’t extend to further pining followed by even more pining, and that instead we wallow in self pity for a while, then a friend drags us out to a pub, we have some fun and we move the heck on with our lives.

When our love runs screaming for the hills in a blind panic walks away in the opposite direction do we miss the real person or the ideal version of them which, let’s be honest, becomes even more ideal when time passes and we conveniently forget the pain they caused in the first place.  And they probably did.  No one’s perfect.  No one.  No, not even me.

If we can give ourselves time to understand why we want the things and/or people we want, figure out which things are real needs and which are fantasies, we might have a fighting chance of succeeding.

I know why I want the things I want. I have a list (not a physical list, although it’s a miracle; I make lists about lists!). I know what’s achievable and what isn’t. I know what I need to do (most of the time). I know who can help me and how. I know the timescales I have in mind to achieve what I want. In some cases I know what the final goal is but with no idea how to get there, but I also know it will come to me eventually. I know that if I don’t achieve what I set out to do that I’ll be disappointed, and I know that in most cases that will be down to me and no one else, but I’ll get over it and move on, or I’ll try again… and again… and again…

Do I want my lost love? Sometimes I do, but then something happens to make me remember why he’s lost and why he’ll remain that way, and normal service can resume, for a while at least.

Do I want to find a new love? Yes. I wasn’t built to be lonely; most of us aren’t. I’m attempting to do something about it but I can only do so much, and I’m painfully aware of that fact. Am I tired of hearing that “it will happen when you least expect it”, “he’s just around the corner” and “you should try speed dating”? Dear god, yes! Am I likely to slap with a soggy haddock the next person to sincerely say any of the above or variations thereof? It’s a distinct possibility. Will I stop looking? No. I wasn’t built to be lonely.

Do I want my own family? At 39 years old while watching the egg timer drain away the last grains of my fertility? Yes, I always have. Will I be content instead to teach my nieces everything I can, to watch them grow into the incredible people I know they’ll be, and be there when they run away from home waiting with hugs, chocolate, pizza, girly movies, and make sneaky phone calls to their mums and dads when they’re not in earshot so I can still be their cool Auntie Kirsty? You betcha!

Do I want to figure out what, once and for all, I want as my career? Of course I do, but I know the job I have now is good, reasonably well paid, with fabulous colleagues and a boss who stands up for her employees even if she knows she can’t change something. Will I figure out what I want to do before it’s too late and I’m too old to be employed in a new area? I haven’t the faintest idea. All I know is I want to help people, I just don’t know how (and before some of you say it, I’m really not cut out to be a nurse!). I want to work at something every day that makes a real difference to people’s lives, and I want to take the fabulous feeling home with me every night, the one that tells me my short time in this life has meant something to people whether I know them or not.

Do I want to lose the rest of the weight I need to lose before I’m considered healthy? Absolutely! Is it difficult? Unless you’ve experienced the long, hard slog you have no idea just how difficult. In twelve months I’ve stayed almost (cough) the same weight when I know I could have already reached my goal with motivation and determination. I know I became lazy and started taking things for granted. I also know that the motivation and determination I need in order to achieve this will come to me in a flash, and I may not even realise it’s happened until weeks later when my trousers start to fall down! I know I’ll do it because I have no choice.

Do I want to move into a flat on my own? Darn tootin’, I do! Do I worry about how I’ll cope with my arachnophobia? Yes. Oh yes. Will it stop me from moving? Are you feckin’ kidding me??? The joy of walking into an empty kitchen and baking when I want, of getting up on a weekend and not lying there listening, waiting for the shower to be free, of having everything I put down still be there when I return to it and not ‘tidied away’ (suddenly lost)? This. This is my first goal, and it’s the one I know I’ll realise before all else.

I want more. I do want more, but these are the big important things I want more than anything else. These are the things that, for me, are worth fighting for and working towards. I’ll keep on keeping on because there’s nothing else I can do. What remains if I don’t? The lazy, sedentary, depressive, unfit waste of a person I used to be. She hasn’t been here for a long time and she’s never coming back, I can guarantee that much even if I don’t succeed with my list.

We can all achieve what we want to achieve if we understand what we want and why. Quitting smoking, quitting drinking, retraining in a new job, emigrating, learning to dance, singing on a stage, starting a business, making all our own Christmas decorations… we can achieve anything. Yes, that last one is on my list, too!

So the only question left is this…

What do you want?

 

When Sadness Falls

No one knows how they would deal with tragedy until it hits and most of the time we just don't think about it; things happen and we deal with the consequences.  Good, bad, destructive, healing, however we deal with it we just get on with it without much thought.  We know we're hurting and we know that the people around us are too, and we act on instinct.  Sometimes we hurt others more in the process and sometimes we're the rock for everyone else while they all fall apart, and we quietly shut ourselves away and let the broken pieces fall behind closed doors. 

Every last one of us has faced loss of one sort or another.  We all know how it makes us feel.

Yesterday I heard news of a tragedy and I was so saddened by it, and with the sadness went a thought to the victims and their families.  Tonight I learned that I know someone who was affected by the tragedy, and as I read some of his words it was all I could do not to cry right there where I stood.

I suppose it's human nature to detach ourselves from the bad things that happen to people we don't know; how would we cope day to day if we were deeply affected with every piece of bad news?  But bring that news a little closer to home and it becomes real.  It becomes something that could happen to us, too, and it makes the world a scarier place.

Tonight though, what I saw in other people was their concern and support.  I watched their faces as they learned of the sadness that's affected one of our own - and he is our own, as is his family whether we've met them or not - and I was further moved by everyone's sadness.  There was such a range of ages, backgrounds, beliefs, nationalities and values stood in that room, and yet we all felt the same as we learned the news.  I didn't need to ask anyone because I could see it right there on their faces.

Tonight there was sadness, of course there was.  There still is.  Alongside that, however, is the realisation that when you touch lives in a positive way, the support you have when the bad things happen is immeasurable.  Many people don't voice their thoughts because they think the person they want to help has heard it all before, and "we'd offer but we can't really help anyway", or they feel uncomfortable or nervous of the reaction.  Some people simply find it difficult to say what they need to say; they can't find the words.

The words don't always matter, though.  Actions speak so loudly when they come from the heart; a hug, a handshake, a sincere look, a smile; they can all say more than any words.

So many people out there have made a real difference to many, many people's lives, whether for just a brief moment or whether they've passed on a long term, ongoing general feeling of wellbeing and a need to help others.  To those people I'd like to say on behalf of everyone who won't, everyone who's scared, everyone who can't find the right words, everyone who's nervous or who just can't find the right moment... you are loved and supported by more people than you will ever know.

To anyone who has lost their smile... yes, it might take some time to return.  It takes as long as it takes.  In the meantime we'll all smile for you.