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Examining Your Motives For Becoming A Helper 4,1.3 Week One

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For the first session of my Counselling Skills class I’ve been asked to identify the motives behind my desire to become a helper…

For me I feel I’m already a helper, all my life family, friends and loved ones seek me out for guidance, support or just to walk their path with them for a while, listening to them make sense of themselves and the world they live in. Now I’m very involved in the spiritual community, as a leader of a growing community, I’m very aware of some individuals looking for guidance from a very vulnerable standpoint. I want to be secure in the fact I’m not causing damage with my support.

So I have a need to care for others but also I want to make an impact with my time in this life.

FEELINGS 

Excitement to start with… Later on with the group I felt the energy in the room to be warm, acceptance of each other was already starting to form. I could feel a lot of relief but I don’t think they were my feelings, I think they were what I felt from other individuals. By the end of the session I was still feeling excitement in the prospect of doing something for myself, something I believe in and something that my skills will suit, with a possible career in mind by the end. I felt a connection with Julie as we worked together. I felt pleasure too when individuals of the group started opening up and expressing their own feelings about the session.

I also felt sadness as Barry was talking about the counselling journey changing who we are as people, reacting differently to situations and people. I feel this past year this Is what I experienced. My grief/bereavement changed my perspective on the world and everything around me. A lot of this was positive change, I’m as stronger person, I know what matters and I’m striving to reach my full potential but because of these changes in me, combined my husband’s reluctance to accept change and lack of respect for my choices I ended the marriage and changed our family unit for ever. I suspect Chris will never accept the changes and hate replaces love for him when he thinks of me now. So this session made me briefly explore my personal sadness and guilt unfortunately.

MY REFLECTIONS

Reflecting on the session tonight…I feel I was already aware of my motivations to join this course, ie my life experiences, my bereavement and my marriage breakdown, so the  ‘The Wounded Healer’ concept and the afore mentioned reasons too. I see I will need to be careful within sessions not to monopolise the talking time or talking over others. Also to be aware of crossing boundaries with touch, and not to write too much.

Stop calling, stop calling. I don’t wanna think anymore!

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Stop calling, stop calling. I don’t wanna think anymore!

I think I’m probably not your typical woman. For lots of reasons really, but one thing that seems to single me out from the feminine race, day after day, other than my increasing tendency to grow unwanted facial hair, is the fucking telephone. I wonder how many of you hate your phone, as much as I hate mine. I hate the landline phone with a passion, I hate the mobile ringing, I hate your phone ringing, I hate people talking into them in public, I hate stupid ringtones, I hate the Nokia original tune. You name it I hate it.

My daughter has just discovered talking to her mates, after spending whole days with them at school. I’ve watched her wander around the room with the other girl on speaker phone and they are describing what they’re doing at that precise moment for two fucking hours!!! I also get to pay the bill for the privilege.

Now I’m guessing you also hate the phone, when it’s that annoying sod on the line, the one who calls you bang on tea time to try to sell you crap you don’t want, or the arse that insists that you had a loan with ppi that you can claim back . No doubt you also hate the man with the accent you can’t understand. You know the one who is certain you didn’t claim compensation for an accident you definitely had that you definitely didn’t  have!! These phone calls in my house are sorted quite quickly to be fair. I tell them I’m not interested and if they haven’t managed to comprehend that in the time i’ve spent saying it. I simply hang up,if they’re still talking,well I’m afraid that’s tough! I’m far to lazy to be arguing with a hard sell all evening, thank you! They don’t tend to call back. Well not that night at least.

No I hate the phone 99.9% of the time. I work mornings, as you who have been following the blog will be already aware of (other than the Wednesday late one). I finish around lunch time,so it’s a question of grabbing some provisions from work at ‘retail super giant’ and heading back for a whirlwind of cleaning, washing, bed changing, appointments and errand running. Basically everything us full-time mum’s with children have to do. But I squish it into the afternoons. Evening is my time. Not housework time,I have to stick to this or I would end up very depressed! This schedule enables me to have a part-time job too, so we all benefit. I also try to fit in a couple of gym sessions after work if I can and perhaps two catch up coffees with friends a week as well.

It doesn’t seem to matter what order I put these afternoon tasks in.It doesnt matter if I train first, Hoover first or eat first. The minute I get my arse settled on the sofa to eat my sandwich,that little bastard knows and he starts! I notice the minute I put my little one in the bath, it does it too. Ring, ring, bloody ring.

Around tea time it’s on fire. When’s it’s not the call centres. Its my husband. Unless he’s working from home,he rings me daily for lengthy chats. Once, maybe twice a day if something he finds interesting has happened. It doesn’t matter that he’s on the way home,he’ll see me in an hour or I’ve got winging children around my feet. It doesn’t matter I’m cooking the tea, that he will want to eat the minute he gets in or the fact we have guests sat on the sofa. He is still incredibly attached to this time talking on the phone. Talking all the way home from his meetings, on his hands free kit, regardless of the reception he is often getting at the other end. Well unless I tell him something that I find interesting and he doesn’t. He then receives an urgent call that he has to answer, right then.

That leads on to my most hated phone call of all,when the reception is bad!!! How can anyone still want to continue a conversation when you’re listening to ..Llo …you there,bu…li…ta…hello…there. Please hang up. In fact I hang up on these ones regardless of who it is. I then bang the phone in and out of the holder a few times, to release the pent-up frustration I experience on these calls.

Don’t get me wrong if it’s important or I havent seen you for months ring (if I don’t answer I’m caught up but do leave me an answer phone message) or even better text and arrange a visit. I don’t mind talking just not all day and not on that thing. I have so many pointless conversations when I need to be doing other things. Some days I barely seem to have time to wipe my arse and I’m having a conversation on the phone in the middle of sticky floors, dusty surfaces and piles of washing and the other person is asking questions but not listening to the answers. The worst of it is they rang me!!!

There it is. In all its simplicity.I hate the phone.

Womens talk-A weighty issue.

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Womens talk-A weighty issue.

I have a summer holiday in Turkey booked for June,I have vowed to get in shape for it.I’ve got a home gym in the garage made up of various fads I’ve had in the past.There’s a cross trainer that sorted out my baby weight left from having my daughter Leah,there’s the rowing machine i had to shed the baby weight left from my son Sammy,there’s the treadmill i bullied my neighbours mercilessly for a year untill they sold it to me (to be fair they were using it as a bloody clothes horse!!) and there’s the weights trainer that my hubby would tell you he uses,but in reality i can’t remember the last time it had weight put on it .My rather handy hubby has installed a ceiling,IR heating and a wood floor. It’s also Wednesday,and on a Wednesday i was going to visit my gym come hell or high water. Truth is Wednesday is the only day in the week i don’t work in the daytime (I go in at half five to count stuff instead) so it makes sense to do a little exercise on a wednesday.All it takes is that short walk down the path and I’m there.But i’m not,im still here talking to myself!

I  want to wear a bikini on holiday ,not a one piece or a tankini.The one piece costume seems to have a wonderful knack of making my boobs look flatter and my arse look fatter,and the tankini hides the bit of my body that is really quite skinny.(Under my boobs where the bra line stops,in case you were wondering). I really don’t want to wear ethier one poolside. Pool….side, you understand as I don’t get in the pool unless my life depended on it.I hate my hair getting wet,I hate children splashing ,I like being hot,really hot, a hot you never get in this beautiful country we live in,where it rains 99% of the fucking time. I  don’t see the point of cooling down on holiday,if i wanted to stay cool i’d holiday in Cornwall, i go on holiday to get hot.

I want to look great in a bikini without running on my treadmill.Today I don’t want to have to run to nowhere.My bumcheeks don’t want to create their own gravitational force,my stomach muscles don’t want to pull me into another sit up and to be honest i would rather go back to bed.

There it is in a nutshell really,why are things that are good for us so hard? Why do we to try to look a way that most of us will never achieve anyway? Don’t get me wrong,i don’t class myself as fat.I’ve never been obese or morbidly obese, I’m usually somewhere between the upper end of the normal weight Bmi scale or just into the overweight category of the Bmi scale, when I don’t use the gym or I eat what I want to rather than what’s actually good for me. But i feel pressure to look and work towards someone elses ideal.I  think society has to take some blame,i do read the ridiculous magazines that will portray a larger figure to be a figure much like Beyonces.I hate to disagree but she is about eight or nine stone max, she is hardly plus size is she? But i’m intelligent enough to realise those magazines are complete bollocks and i should probably not give the publishers my hard-earned money,(well my earned money at least).

I’m not critical towards other people’s bodies in the slightest,I’ll be the first to point out your amazing bone structure or reply ‘don’t be daft you’re not fat, you’re perfectly in proportion and by god look at that amazing rack’,or when you winge I’ll say how boring it would be if we were all the same but I find it hard to extend the same kindness to myself .I understand and like my personality (we talk for hours ;-D) but I am so critical of my body that houses it!

I’m wondering exactly where it stems from,i had a happy childhood and i can’t remember even worrying about my body shape as a child,i don’t think it was on my radar.Although i did get involved in my first relationship of four years at a very young age,age 14,with a lad who had crippling self-esteem issues so maybe a bit rubbed off on me in my teens.

I also got married young and had my daughter quite young,I was only 19 years old when I fell pregnant with Leah ,and I found it incredibly difficult to cope with the changes pregnancy had made to my figure after she was born,just before my 20th birthday.I had thought baby weight just comes off naturally,in my case, this just isn’t true. So after feeling unhappy for about a year,waiting for it to fall off ,all the while stuffing myself with nahn breads as a tasty brunch snack or family sized chocolate bars as they ‘were cheaper’. I took matters into my own hands and put myself on a strict diet and vigorous exercise regime where i trained in the gym four mornings a week,plus using a cross trainer in the evenings and i used to Rollerblade on a weekend. I also cut out processed foods,starchy white carbs,sweet things,well most foods to be honest,i lived on protein and veg with two squares of dark chocolate as a treat.

I did find the exercise addictive and i think it was a crutch for a rather difficult time of my life too.I loved my daughter unreservedly but I found adjusting to being a young mother and the move to Germany to live with my husband difficult.Within the first two years of Leah’s life ,my mother battled an aggressive breast cancer and my sister was diagnosed with a borderline personality disorder plus manic depression for good measure (bi polar disease) so it was a tough time within our family and quite simply i missed my parents and my sister beyond belief when I couldn’t see them regularly ,as well as adjusting to the fact I was a mother and housewife already at 20.

So back to the weight issue as I’m off on a tangent.I held this figure and lifestyle for about four years .I felt I looked fantastic but it didn’t make me any happier,i was just as up and down as always. It didn’t change any problems in my life.

I found once I’d moved back to the UK, I was able to relax a little,with the input of family and close friends,i became slightly less obsessive with my diet and exercise routine. I gained a little bit of weight and a life.We then made the decision to have another child and Sam left me with a bit of extra weight too.I again sold into the idea of thin is sexy and joined weight watchers,it worked for me I was back to eight stone ish in no time.Problem was I couldn’t hold it off,as soon as I started to eat like a person rather than a mouse I regained it with some more on top.

Right now I’ve managed through not overeating but not dieting and occasional jaunts into my gym, to lose some weight and tone up a bit,but i’m far from eight stone,so here we are right back where I’ve started.I want to wear that bikini for my holiday,did i say? So to gym or not to gym that is the question,isn’t it? Or is it still a question of self esteem?