Being Shy

Maybe I should change the title of this blog to “From The Therapist’s Couch” as all I seem to write about these days are things he has said to me or events I have told him about.
Today isn’t going to be any different, I'm afraid.

On Thursday, the therapist suggested that I was fundamentally a shy person and my efforts to cover that up could be one of the reasons I have felt a bit lost recently and not sure who I really am. That was an eye opener to me though I’m fully aware that those who know me would laugh loudly at that idea. I’m the bubbly one, the one with the laugh, the one so suited to my job because I’m a natural party animal which makes me ideal to run public events. I am the epitome of an extrovert.

But when he told me I could be quite shy I knew straight away that it was true. I was taken right back to my childhood when I was about five or six and my dad had come home with some guests who greeted me and asked me how I was. When I didn’t know what to say, he told me to say hello and I remember feeling really anxious and I turned my face into the wall and said nothing. He excused himself from his visitors and took me into the kitchen and told me that my behaviour was unacceptable and that when people spoke to me I MUST answer as it was just plain rude to ignore them. I remember crying and saying that I felt shy and my normally affectionate Dad was very sharp and unsympathetic. He told me to stop crying and that there was no such thing as being shy and that he didn’t ever want to hear that from me again. I had to go back in that room, smile and speak to them.

I remember after that I always made sure I was the one to start a conversation and even now, if I’m in a group of people I always feel that it is my responsibility to keep the dialogue flowing even though I’m always telling myself it is not my role to play the court jester.

It’s all to do with a fear of rejection I suppose.

Even though we tend to go to a lot of parties, I never look forward to them. I will often tell Ewan that I don’t want to go and will leave getting ready to the last minute. He has learnt to ignore me now but on the way to any do, even parties held by close friends or family, I will be anxious. My heart will race and/or my head will pound but once I’m there, I’m the very life and soul. How ridiculous is that? I have become extremely skilled at portraying pure confidence and I am very good at meeting new people in social situations.

The therapist just nodded at all that and said it matched classic signs of overcompensating for being shy but that I was doing all the right things and that actually I just needed to be aware that it wasn’t my natural persona and that I wasn’t to get confused by that. That it’s OK to be quiet at times and to let others be the funny one and to be assured that people will still like me.

He said the shy side of me is actually what makes me a good listener and not at all phased at the thought of being left alone. I’m not a typical extrovert in that I need people around me. I really don’t. I’m very happy in my own company – it’s probably the only time I’m really myself.

It was a good session. I like learning about me !

A Political Game

So after the recent political hiatus, things seem to be settling down but I have found it all absolutely fascinating.

I've stopped short of posting what I think here over the election period, but comments I have left on other blogs have probably given away my political allegiance! I thought though, just for a bit of fun (and in a massive name-dropping exercise!!), I would give my take on some of the leaders that I have met over this campaign and leave you to match the names to the descriptions - some of them were surprising, I have to say…..

Over the last six weeks or so at the various events I have been involved with, I have met Gordon Brown, David Cameron, Nick Clegg, Alex Salmond, Ieuean Wyn Jones and Nick Griffin !
And here in no particular order are descriptions of each:

a) Very charming and he greeted me, as he did last time we met, with a warm handshake and an apology for forgetting my name. He seemed genuinely interested in what I would be doing over the election period and had a lovely twinkle in his eye when he spoke about his family. He apologised again for breaking our conversation when an aide came to tell him something. He then revealed with a deep laugh that it was the latest football score for his team.

b) More pleasant than I expected but he tried too hard to be personable which worked against him. He pretended too hard to be interested in what I was saying, nodding away like a Churchill dog. He tried to be tactile too, even though it didn't come naturally and so made me want to recoil. The people around him looked really quite scary and I didn't feel at all comfortable in his presence. He was like an awkward overgrown schoolboy.

c) Very entertaining! The sort of person I would love to go out to dinner with as he tells a story well, though he has a very sharp side as I saw him cut someone down in a discussion about tax. However I know he took a shine to me and he made me laugh a lot and in turn, laughed at a couple of things I said which is always a winning quality as far as I'm concerned! We talked about the X-Factor versus Strictly Come Dancing and how he thinks British TV drama is pathetic compared to what the Americans do. I loved him and he clearly loves the company of women.

d) This one reminded me of my dad a bit. Nothing to do with age or the way he looks but just something quiet and unassuming about him that seemed quite unusual for the leader of a political party. I warmed to him although he wasn't the best conversationalist I have ever met. We had a jazz band at the event and he was quite enthusiastic about them. He just seemed faintly old-fashioned and I liked him because of it. He didn't even seem to have a mobile phone - just kept talking into the ones his aides kept bringing over. Very cute!

e) I was genuinely shocked that he looked at my boobs as he shook hands with me. He was polite enough but not particularly warm although he did keep touching my arm during conversation in a very practised way. I noticed his ready smile always faded quickly and that he spent more time with his aides than in working the room.

f) Polite and pleasant enough but also somewhat aloof and clearly indifferent to anyone when there wasn't a camera around. I got the sense that he wasn't listening to me during our brief chat and was too busy looking round the room for better opportunities. The only thing that did impress me was that he came over to say goodbye and remembered my name (I'm so easily enamoured by that sort of thing, I can't tell you) !!

So that's it and now, I leave it to you to work out. Bet you don't get them all right ......

Second Thoughts

Maybe I was a bit harsh before.

As ever, I spoke to the therapist about how I was feeling and he told me that I am NOT a man hater. That I only had to look back at my history with men to know that. He suggested that actually, I adore men! That I enjoy their company and revel in the attention they lavish on me which is, rightly or wrongly, what validates my existence.

He said that perhaps with the exception of Ewan's mistake, none of the men in my life had actually treated me "badly". They just didn't treat me the way I wanted and were just flawed, as so many men (and yes, women too) tend to be when it comes to being honest in relationships.

He said any emotional damage I suffered came because I allowed it. I didn't take steps at the time to notice the danger signs and even if I was aware of them, I didn't do anything about it. So when the inevitable happened, it was easier to blame all men for being weak and dishonest and claim to hate them all rather than to look at the reasons that past relationships have ended the way they have.

Quite brutal ! But the therapist is very good at covering that iron fist with a velvet glove so that it doesn't hurt when he delivers the blow. It only begins to ache once I have left and start to mull over what he has said. I've been thinking about it a lot and even though it pains me, of course he's right.

Just knowing that makes me feel much better

Not Happy

I haven’t felt like posting in a while.

For one thing it has been really busy and I have been travelling around the country working on various election events. I have a couple more, one later today and then another on Friday which could be a celebration do or a sorry everyone, we didn’t make it but you were brilliant event . It really should be an exciting time and I should be riding the wave of success as, so far (touch wood), everything has gone very well. I watch all the younger staff who are working on their first election events and they have so much enthusiasm, but I’m just going through the motions with that false smile on my face.

In truth, I feel I’m being dragged back to that pit of depression that I have worked so hard to stay away from, what with the therapist and some soul-searching posts on this blog. It feels like I have said so much recently, digging right down inside of me, that I’ve been left feeling a bit empty. I didn’t think I had anything worthwhile left to say. So, I was going to write a dutiful post urging everyone to go out to vote, no matter who they support. Because this election, every vote will count to make sure the right party are in power.

However, my dear friend, Nancy has been on my mind recently.

She is the same age as me and has three children, but last year she discovered she was pregnant….with twins, They were due in February but Max and Maisie had other ideas and arrived early in January. They weren’t in the special care baby unit for very long. Although they were both tiny (and oh, so cute) they are both strong fighters, like their mother, and so she had them home at the beginning of February.

During the pregnancy, she often confided in me that she didn’t think she wanted the babies and couldn’t face the thought of putting her life aside again to look after them. She said she knew it was selfish and she hated herself for those thoughts but that she couldn’t help it. I have to admit I understood what she meant. This time of our lives is when we see the light. Our babies have grown into young adults and are about to set off on their own and we get to discover ourselves again. I have loved every minute of being a mother (well almost!) but having to start over again would be something I would find incredibly difficult too.

However, after the twins arrived and for that brief time when they needed special attention, Nancy was in a frenzy, praying that they would be OK and begging for forgiveness that she could even have considered that she didn’t want them. I was with her on the day they took Max out of the incubator and put him in her arms and she looked like a little girl again, lost in wonder and love as she cradled her beautiful new son properly for the first time. I’m welling up now thinking of that moment and how any feelings of doubt were long gone. She has since been a great mother to the twins and of course her three teens have been a real help and so, surprisingly, has her husband, Will.

They got married when they were in their early twenties but he has never fully appreciated just how lucky he was to be with a truly beautiful woman. In fact, because he had got himself a successful model, I think he thought he could get any woman he wanted. And so he did. He has been unfaithful to her so many times and they have split up and got back together more times than I can remember. The thing is, as much as I should hate him, I have to admit that I have always had a soft spot for him. He is great fun, incredibly good-looking and a real charmer and when he is not being a complete arse and looking at other women, he is an amazing husband and father. It is because of that, she always takes him back. And every time she takes him back, she gets pregnant! And he promises to change and he does for a bit and then he blows it. And now, when the twins are not even four months old he has done it again. A few days ago, he told her that he had met someone else. That this time it was different and that he was moving out. That he was sorry and that he would always be there for her and the children but that this woman understood him in a way that she never has and that Nancy would be better off without him.

We all spent the day with her on Bank Holiday Monday. She is trying to be very practical and matter of fact about how it has happened once too often and that she is used to it and that this time it really is over and she will never take him back but she won’t deny him access to the children and that she can cope because she has before …but the fact that she kept dissolving into floods of tears betrayed just how devastated she is.

Ewan was so lovely to Nancy and told her that he would be speaking to Will to find out what the hell is going on. He is a quite a wise thing really and he was very hands on with the twins, helping Sasha and Kyle to bathe them and put them to bed. But since we came home that night, even though he has done nothing wrong, I can’t bring myself to talk to him. I know he is confused.I haven’t slept for the last couple of nights and have been in a silent, seething rage that seems even worse this morning.

Sasha has always laughingly called me a man-hater but I realised last night that there is such truth in that. I am so angry with Will. But I’m also angry with men in general that they always seem to come out on top no matter what they do. And I’m angry that like so many women, I am weak and pathetic and have let them do me such emotional damage over the years. I know that yet again I have turned this round to be about me but it has triggered something deep inside of me.

I am seriously pissed off and I want to behave like a child and have a tantrum.

Such Glee

I miss singing so much. It has always provided an outlet for me that I can’t seem to find anywhere else but at the moment I can’t return to my singing group while Matt is there.

However …… a new Glee-style show choir has started near where I work that operates on a drop-in basis.

I went last night. We sang “Someone To Love”. We did all the parts, everyone was having a ball, I sang at the top of my voice and I have to say, we made a great sound!

Today, I am beyond happy !!

That Long Hot Summer

My lovely blogger friend, Ian published a post a while back that reminded me of the long, hot summer I had between leaving high school and starting university.

Just two days after I finished school I took a selection of clothes round to my friend's house for her to borrow on her family trip to Austrialia. She lived on the same road as Mr Delaney. I said goodbye and left her at exactly the same moment that my gorgeous economics teacher was leaving his house. He greeted me very warmly and asked what I was off to do. When I said nothing he asked me if I wanted to go to the pub with him. Of course I said yes! And that was the start of a relationship that lasted the whole of that summer.

Of course, as my teacher (I was 18, he was 28) he probably should have steered clear. But technically, I was no longer his student. We both knew it was something to keep quiet though. He never asked me to but I instinctively knew it was likely to cause trouble and so it was my big secret!

But it wasn't as seedy as maybe it sounds. He was such lovely company and I think he saw me as his very own "Pygmalion" project. He took me to art galleries and exhibitions and the theatre and he even introduced me to opera. We did "La Traviata" long before it was a famous scene in "Pretty Woman". And we went for long romantic walks and picnics. He was a great cook and he made me some fantastic meals on the nights I stayed over. He also introduced me to fantastic sex and taught me just how to make a man happy…. and said that I was a very good student !! Sometimes we just spent days in bed.

I loved the time I spent with him but he was clever enough to make me look forward to university and all the opportunities I would have there to continue to broaden my mind. So, when it was time for him to go back to school I was ready to say goodbye without any tears or angst (well, not much!)

I never saw him again. I heard a few years later that he had been out with my friend's sister for a short time, so he clearly had a thing for young girls but then, a few years after that, I heard he had married one of the games teachers at the school. I was totally shocked because she didn't seem to be his type at all. She was from New Zealand, was at least the same age as him (if not older), had a crazy, mad perm and looked and sounded like a man! The last I heard, about five or six years ago was that he'd had a heart attack and a friend told me that she saw him in town once, looking very old. He can only be in his fifties so that didn't sound good.

I wonder if he ever thinks of me. I'd like to see him again - just to say thank you. He was gorgeous and made a woman of me and gave my confidence a huge boost.

Whatever anyone else may think, I really do treasure those memories.

One Hundred Today !!

So, I was all fired up to write the follow-up to my last post, when I noticed that this entry is my 100th! ONE HUNDREDTH !! I have written a hundred posts. I mean I know that’s not such a big deal, given that I started the blog back in 2008 but still….a hundred !!

That’s a hundred little peeks into my sad old life! But actually, writing those one hundred entries has made me not so sad….. I think! It has certainly helped me along a path of discovery.

So I think I’m going to pat myself on the back! It’s not something I do often but I will today. It’s Easter after all. I shall sit back this afternoon munching chocolate and smiling at how very clever I am !!!

I’ll go back to the “woe is me” writing, next time ……. !!