I have been the type of person who often says things and then twenty minutes later changes their mind.

You might resonate with that. Or you might know people like that and want to punch them squarely in their fucking flaky face.

(It’s ok, I often feel that way about myself, too.)

It’s not that I enjoy being flaky, but rather that being flaky has a lot to do with how I’ve learned (and am now unlearning) to make decisions.

You see, my decisions have historically been made in order to create a result that pleases other people. Not for me, so that other people would like me, approve of me, respect me. Believe me, if I’d have actually considered what subjects I wanted to do at schoo or uni, I wouldn’t have ended up as a computer programmer and web developer for several years. Because LOLOLOLOLOL have you met me?!

(I originally applied to do Accounting and Finance… No offence to accountants and financial advisors, because you’re doing a sterling job, but really, it ain’t me)

Do you know how hard it is to be a person who loves lots of different things, but also has an unquenchable need to please others while also being uncontrollably terrified of judgement? It’s diamond encrusted, Stone Cold Steve Austin, morning wood hard. And it has fucking sucked.

In the past year, I have taken on work I didn’t care for, said yes to MORE work I didn’t care for, not spoken up when I wanted to, and believe me when I say 2017 was really not a bad year. It was a pretty sweet year, all things considered; I mean, I got back to gymnastics – GYMNASTICS!!! ME!!! A 36 YEAR OLD WITH A DODGY WRIST AND A WOBBLY ARSE!!!! And it was brilliant, and it opened up so many doors. I started a coaching course, got as far as passing the theory and then failed the practical, and really started to listen to myself. I liked gymnastics – nay, loved it – but coaching gymnastics is not equal to doing gymnastics, so a few weeks ago, I decided to stop my coaching training. And it still feels like it was the right idea for me.

So, here, in the cold light of blogland, is a list of things that I currently want to commit to:

  1. I commit to continue listening to myself. Really fucking listening. From the ecstatic highs to the shit-shivelling lows, and evrything in between. I commit to listening to the tiniest of inner voices so they don’t need to start deafening me before I take notice.
  2. I commit to enforcing personal boundaries that respect myself first. I don’t need to add anything else to this.
  3. I commit to treating myself with radical fucking kindness, asking “what would someone who loved themselves do?”, not giving in to the “I don’t feel like it” when it comes to moving my body (unless I’m really ill and need the rest as per point 1) and eating with joy and ease.
  4. I commit to finding out what I want to do with this one wild and precious life of mine. There’s lots of parts I enjoy, there’s lots I endure. I’m ready to find the perfect blend of things that also means at some point in the long game, I’m able to earn money, live comfortably and contribute to the world I live in. And to also not infrequently panic about my non-existent pension pot.
  5. I commit to fun. Pockets of fun, huge, dreamy seams of fun, days, afternoons, mornings, or even minutes of fun. And I commit to enjoying life both by myself and with others, because #antisocialextrovert. I mean, if we can’t enjoy this life before we leave, WHAT EXACTLY IS THE POINT, PRAY TELL?

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to be adding more to exactly what I want to achieve, but here’s a video of a recent commitment I made to myself: Play a cover of American Pie after being reminded of Madonna’s terrible version (and I LOVE Madonna)

 

You know when people say, "I COULD BLOODY DO BETTER THAN THAT" and then never do it? I've decided not to be that person. — I heard a version of American Pie sung by Madonna early on this morning. And being a fan of a) The Immaculate Collection, b) that woman's fucking goddessly work ethic, and c) her arms, I was frankly baffled at this cover. Despite the praises being sung in the comments section on YouTube, all I could hear was something that sounded like a theme song for a kids cartoon about space bears or some shit. And I uttered those famous words, "I could do better than that!". —- So, I took my guitar out of *cough* a ten year *cough* hibernation, tuned her up, and decided to learn the chords and create My Very Own Version. — Now, my technique is completely self-taught from the days of PRE-YOUTUBE. This guitar is literally old enough to buy it's own booze in the USA. Well, if it were a human. I only realised that my chord fingering (BRIEF PAUSE FOR SNIGGERS) was completely wrong a few years ago, but I decided to just bloody do it. And if I'm honest, it's pretty terrible – AND I'M NOT SAD ABOUT IT, AND I'M NOT ASHAMED ABOUT IT. It was me enjoying myself, not being afraid to make a twat of myself, and most importantly putting some skin in the game and doing what I said I would. —- Honestly? Madonna hasn't really got anything to worry about. Also my fingers FUCKING KILL. #sorefingers #isaidfingering #stillmyguitargentlyweeps #americanpie #thesongnotthefilm

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