Day 71 – Dreams really do come true

March 15, 2010 at 8:22 pm (bipolar, Boyfriends who are just friends, Business, Career choices, Charity, Depression, dresses, Employment, Fashion, Female solidarity, Friendship, Inspirational women, Job hunting, Long distance relationships, Manchester, Market Harborough, mental health, NCTJ, photography, Reality TV, Recession, Relationships, Social Media, Student, Style, Television, The boy, Uncategorized, Unemployment, University life)

Although today was meant to be another post in the women’s series something magical happened today which warrants pushing back part three in the series to another day. Considering how the day started, the way it ended seems on reflection darn near unbelievable.  Though I am anxious to blurt out the good news like a prophet on a podium I must be patient and remember that every good story has a beginning and so at the start of the day we shall begin.

I usually find Fridays to be a bit of a struggle.  It is presumably because unlike the majority of the world’s population it does not signal an end to my working week, it is just another day in my ongoing unemployment.   Admittedly there are some advantages to being unemployed such as having big bubble baths every morning, waking up whenever one wants and being free to blog to my heart’s content.  In spite of this however the one major thing that is lacking when one is unemployed is the constant company.  When I worked in an office I used to love the midday chatter, the small talk about what one did at the weekend and what one was planning to do for the next. I had people to talk with about the scandals in the tabloids and even found fellow lovers of X Factor and other wonderfully trashy TV shows.  As a freelancer with an emphasis on the free, I miss out not just on the infamous pay-day delight but also the loveliness of work-mates with whom one has a common purpose.

Although I woke up this morning to find myself feeling the same old Friday blues I decided to force myself out of bed, swallow down the sadness and take a trip to town.  It is the boy’s birthday tomorrow and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I failed to get him a present just because I was fed up. Having decided that what I needed was a bit of a background buzz to aid me in my work I headed over to Fuel Cafe where the internet is free, the eggs are free range and the coffee they serve is the best in Southern Manchester.  The bar staff are all very lovely and they have no problem with people spending the day there thinking away so long as they purchase a pot of tea to aid their musings. In an attempt to cheer myself up I straightened my hair (it bounced back) put on some nice make up and even ex-foliated and moisturised myself like a lady of leisure before pulling myself into this delightfully peacock patterned, silky material H&M dress.  It is gorgeous and feels like I am wearing a nightgown but with better cleavage coverage.

I started to cheer up as soon as I left the house, it was a really beautiful mild day and I am finally able to leave the house without hat scarf gloves and portable heater.  Fuel was jam-packed with interesting types and after a coffee and pot of tea I was feeling much perkier.  I’ve kind of come to the conclusion that I’m not going to be getting the job I applied for last week, and me and the boy had a chat last night about the future and what our options are and I decided I would just have to put the dream on the back-burner for a while until we had saved up enough to put down a deposit. I’ve been hammering the applications this week for any administrative position which pays a decent wage around Greater Manchester.  I was a little surprised then when I had a call from a Harborough area code which when I looked up was a direct line at the paper I’d applied to.  My phone cut out of battery before I had a chance to answer it but I assumed it was about the quotes I’d sent it and figured I would ring them once I got home that afternoon.

A little while later after typing up my review notes I had a quick check on my emails and found a note from the editor asking me to call him.  A little flutter started up in my stomach which I quickly tried to suppress reminding myself that it was probably something about the story or my request for a week of work experience.  There was a little bit of hope that was yet to die however and I begged the lady behind the bar to use her phone to give him a bell.  After polite enquiries as to each others health I heard the following fabulous words; “I’m calling about the job and I am delighted to say we have decided to offer you the position.”  I nearly dropped the phone in shock and it was probably a good job I was so surprised as it prevented me shrieking with delight like a five-year-old.  It turns out that I have been offered a place as a trainee reporter at The Harborough Mail, the local paper in the town where I grew up.  This means the world to me and I am so excited.  It is everything I have been hoping for and more and it still feels like its a dream.  I must admit that in spite of my conversation with the boy the night before I instantly accepted the job because it is the kind of opportunity one cannot refuse.

Although I believe some of you may have seen news of this on my twitter and face-book updates I want to firstly assure you that I will be continuing with the blog.  It means a lot to me and it is something I really enjoy doing and so I will keep it going even if it means the posts are a little shorter, which I am sure will be a relief for most of you! I am sorry that the past week has been a bit of a trial, what with doing the women’s week postings and having quite a few reviews to finish I’ve been feeling a little stretched.  I am finally feeling back on top now though and I want to thank you all for bearing with me and not complaining in spite of the tardiness of this weeks posts.

I know it sounds crazily corny but the news I received today made me realise how important it is for us to hold on to our dreams.  In the past month myself, the boy, his sister and our superstar musical theatre friend Anna have all got given their dream jobs. Though I can barely believe there is this much luck in the world to go round it is clear that with the support of friends and family and a ridiculous level of optimism it is possible to persevere and find a career which you truly love.  Twelve months ago I started on an NCTJ course at News associates in Manchester.  I withdrew all of my savings and even took a loan from my parents to pay to train in a career I had known I wanted to do from the time of my first meeting with the careers lady at school.  The course was intense and it was perhaps one of the hardest things I have ever done but today I realise it has all been worth it and am so thankful to my wonderful tutor Ian Gilbert who pushed us all to try harder and gave us the confidence and encouragement we needed to crack our way through each of the terribly difficult exams.  I am also thankful to the great friends I had on the course, you know who you are but for clarity sake; KK, AK, SY, TKR, RC and CB.  You made everything easier and your support and belief in me as a writer meant I kept trying even when it seemed impossible.  To the rest of my course mates you made every day full of fun particularly the legendary AB who somehow managed to always ask the one question nobody else would dare and the lovely MW who made a brilliant cup of tea and had the sweetest smile.  

Sorry to be a sop guys but seriously keep dreaming, keep trying and really wonderful things will happen.  Don’t allow yourself to get to the end and ask what if, do it now and every day will feel like a mini miracle.

  • Today’s dress has been donated by Belinda Smears.  It is from H&M is a size 10 and feels gorgeous.  It has lovely long sleeves which you can pull over your hands if your chilly or feeling a bit vulnerable.  The random reeds, blue flowers and feathers were because the boy decided the door was not interesting enough on its own and I was in a giddy enough mood to agree. I think I may have scratched my face on a bamboo stick.

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Day 64 – The magnificent maxi dress

March 6, 2010 at 7:23 pm (Addiction, America, bipolar, Bitchy Girls, Career choices, Celebrity, Charity, Coffee, Depression, Destructive relationships, dresses, Fashion, Female solidarity, Job hunting, Manchester, Market Harborough, Mean men, photography, Reality TV, Style, Television, Uncategorized, Unemployment, University life) (, , , , )

Today was a pretty dreadful day.  It has been months since I have felt this low and although I managed to get dressed in the end the project came close to coming under a new name; 364 dresses and the boy’s best t-shirt.  Part of the reason for the low was loneliness; the boy was at work today which left me alone with my thoughts which are particularly unpleasant at the moment.  It has now been months since I finished my course and longer still since I have been in the work place and I am starting to feel frustrated at the sheer amount of rejection and red-tape involved in the job market at this timde. I do not think I am a particularly unemployable person; in spite of my head troubles whenever I am in the work place I am generally in good health, am hard-working and committed and throw myself into every task and have been told I am great fun to have around the office as I get on well with most people, even tolerating questionable clothing choices for the sake of harmony in the office.  My illness has never effected me in the work place as far as I am aware other than perhaps taking things to heart more than most.

When I woke up this morning and found myself drifting into melancholy I tried my best to regroup and remind myself of all the wonderful plans I had made for the day.  The night before I had made a lovely list of things I wanted to do today; I am a freak about to do lists and can think of few things more pleasurable in life than ticking off  an entire to do list in one day.   Upon my list there was a couple of CD reviews I wanted to get finished before the weekend as well as a note about a trip out to see John Ryland’s library on Deansgate; it has been restored for some time now and I am desperate to explore the literary treasures within and see the splendour of a building filled to the brim with beautiful wonderful life affirming books.  I had also planned to spend the day hunting out a new purse, finding some thermals for skiing in Chamonix and tracking down some reasonably priced vintage tea sets for an event I’m planning.

I like to think that had the boy been about I would have tried harder to prise myself from my mood.  As it was however he was not and seeing as there was nobody about to make me feel embarrassed for mooching around like an angst ridden teenager I put my plans to the back of my mind, pulled the quilt up to my chin and queued up an indecent number of episodes of Glee to keep me calm.

I am not usually a big fan of television.  There are few things I find worthy of dedicating my time to on the schedule other than the football.  I did become hooked on Celebrity Big Brother at the start of the year but generally I find trash TV rather disturbing as the producers of reality TV seem genuinely hell-bent on going out of their way to find the most mentally disturbed people in the country and placing them all in a confined space.  If they are not unbalanced when they enter the house they are certainly lacking in reality when they leave and most develop delusions of grandeur which are really rather worrying.

There are however a few series which I am happy to dedicate hours of my life to at a time.  These are, in no particular order The Wire; The West Wing; Dexter; Glee and Scrubs.  Scrubs, West Wing and The Wire hold a special place in my heart because when I was suffering from severe episodes of depression they kept me company and eventually aided me to abandon my bed in the hope of brighter days which laid up ahead.

When I was at University in my second year I was hit by a virus which knocked me for six right in the middle of a string of deadlines.  I was ill for about three weeks in total and although the virus was severe I probably would have got better sooner had I not allowed myself to sink into sadness.  My boyfriend at the time was not the most understanding of fellows and it was easier to tell him I was sick than psychologically flawed and  in this way I was able to keep the truth of my crazy from him for a little longer.  In fairness to him whilst he thought I was sick and not sad he did try to help me out, he downloaded me three seasons of scrubs to keep me company whilst he went to lectures and even cooked for me on a fair few occasions.  Although Scrubs is terribly twee I found myself comforted by its softly softly delivery of lessons on morality and motivational speeches from the infamous Doctor Cox and in the end I forced myself to get showered and dressed all at the same time and dragged myself out of bed.  I managed to keep my poorly at bay for a while longer but less than two months after my Scrubathon I fell into a much deeper depression.  The same Scrub sourcing sweetheart had become bored of my blues and without too much trouble had found himself a distraction.  He dumped me the day after I stumbled upon a conversation he’d had with a friend via MSN about a stunning girl who was apparently model hot.  He had pulled her in front of his friends whilst I had been back home with my family and had apparently been speaking with her every other day since.  Unfortunately when he left me I couldn’t even find solace in Scrubs as it had become too closely linked too him so instead I turned to the bitter sweetness of 80p Apple Sours from the hall bar along with any other alcohol available to numb the pain. I did try yoga for a while and even went to the doctor in search of a magic pill but oblivion was a much more attractive albeit destructive way to heal my wounds.

The West Wing helped me out in much the same way as Scrubs did.  After struggling for months to find work after graduating I sort of gave up and started sleeping more than was strictly healthy.  Admittedly it didn’t help that I had given up my medication upon some manic hippy notion that love could cure-all but depression did indeed beckon it’s familiar claw and without the help of medicines I gave up the fight to it all too easily.  As I sleepily struggled to force myself from the safety and comfort of the quilt I found myself happily distracted by the popular sharp tongued protagonists.  Escapism enveloped me as I became entirely focused on deciphering the endless dialogue spoken at a speed which even I struggled to keep up with.  It took me twenty-four episodes but in the end I got myself back to reality and even managed to make tough choices to move home and take a job at my father’s company as a purchase ledger clerk.  It wasn’t my dream career but at least it gave me a routine and a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

Finally the other series which has been a band aid in disguise over the years is The Wire.  Unlike the other programmes I have mentioned, this was a series which was watched from a decidedly upright position.  Knowing as I did that exercise is one of the best ways to combat a low mood I decided to combine my usual remedy of box-set with bench work.  Every morning before I got a shower, I would watch an episode of The Wire whilst working out with weights on the stepper.  In this way, with a lot of help from family, friends and pharmaceutical companies I finally managed to get my mojo back and even got a fairly flat tummy for my troubles.

This morning when I chose to watch Glee rather than get out of bed I was annoyed at myself because I knew it was a bad decision.  I knew that if I could just drag myself from under the covers and into the shower I could still stand a chance of going for a walk, getting out the house and maybe letting the sunshine and the sound of others getting on with their lives do the rest.  Unfortunately it wasn’t until gone four in the afternoon that I managed to get myself in the shower and dressed and by the time the boy came home he was too tired to do anything other than drift off to sleep on my lap.  I moaned like a child about wanting him to fix me and make me feel better but in my heart I know that when I am in a mood like this there is little he or Glee can do to make things better.  All I can ever hope for when I am struck down by a low like this is that come the next morning the clouds will have cleared enough to tempt me into taking the tiny steps needed to bring me out of doors to see the daylight.  Only tomorrow will tell.

  • Today’s dress was donated by Sinead Kenny, sister of Monica who loaned yesterday’s gorgeous grey dress.  This maxi dress is a size 14 but is one of those wonderful one size fits all dresses which is elasticated round the waist and bust.  With pink Marks and Spencer tights and extremely high heels I avoid the fatal mistake of letting it trail on the pavement and prevent it being soiled with Manchester muck – leaves and rain mashed together to create a grey and brown paste.  It was totally freezing today and though I did spend the majority of the day hiding out indoors I did make it out in time for the last of the light even if I did jump straight back in to bed afterwards.

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