ADHD and Me

I've been meaning to do a blog on ADHD, and why I think I might have it, for a while. After mentioning it in my last book review, I decided it was time to write this post. First, I should mention that there are two types of ADHD - hyperactive and inattentive - and the combined type. I seem to be mostly inattentive with some combined elements.

My ADHD has never been officially diagnosed. I thought I should start with that. I'm in adult education, and I saw the school special educational needs officer about it. After listening to my story, and watching my behaviour, she agreed it was likely. My behaviour while talking to her was a constant subconscious and involuntary flipping of my phone case. Open, shut. Open, shut.

She gave me some books on the subject to take home and go over with Mum. I read the list of symptoms out to her, and she agreed with many of them. One thing she said was that as a child, I could never stay with one activity, I used to 'flit' from one to the other. So we made an appointment with the GP, and he referred me to a mental health service. Of course, mental health services on the NHS do take time to get through, and when I finally got my referral, it was just after Mum had died. It no longer seemed important.

I'm going to go through a list of symptoms that I have, and how they relate to ADHD. It doesn't mean that everyone who has these symptoms has ADHD - I don't even know for sure that I do - but surely that means there's nothing wrong with me taking on board some of the coping mechanisms if they work for me. This is why the increased access to information on mental health that we have in this day and age is a good thing.

Even before fidget spinners were invented, I always needed something to do with my hands. I've broken more necklaces than I care to admit by swinging the chain around my fingers because it was the closest thing to hand. I used to take pens apart for something to do, which inevitably lead to losing the springs and my parents getting annoyed that they now didn't work. My fidget spinner gets a lot of use.

I've struggled to make friends. The ones I do have I've met under unusual circumstances, or have known all my life. I was bullied a bit growing up and miss social cues. I speak without thinking and blurt things out. This can go two ways with people with ADHD. Either they have lively, bubbly personalities that allow them to make friends easily, or they find it hard to relate to their peers. People with ADHD can be shy, quiet. I daydream often in conversation, which means I miss things that are said.

I'm a chronic procrastinator. I often procrastinate things I want to do. I've been meaning to write this since this time last year, to give an example! I'm also disorganised, and it takes me a while to make sure I have all the right tools together to do some work. Homework was often forgotten or left at school. As a reasonably intelligent person, I was able to hide my lack of work with excuses and looking interested. I was the one with my hand up in class, which was actually a coping mechanism to keep my mind on the subject by giving it something to do. Nothing made my mind wander like my classmates taking five minutes to answer a question I knew. And then suddenly, oops, missed half the lesson. But as soon as work required a decent bit of revision, my grades tanked. And I often start something with the best of intentions, but get distracted and never manage to finish. And it can be hard for me to pull away from one activity to start another. I'll think "I'll start in five minutes" and before I know it, three hours have gone by.

Keeping my room tidy is an exercise in futility. The best I can do is put things away every few days, and give it a good clean if people are coming around. If I put something down, especially if it's small, there's a good chance I'll have to go hunting again for wherever the hell I put it.

I was actually given some special educational needs classes growing up. One for hand-eye co-ordination. Speech and language was recommended, but my parents said no, I'd grow out of that. There was one in Secondary School to make me socialise better with the class, because nothing makes a teenager more accepted by her peers than singling her out. Dyslexia was suspected, since I often misspelled words. But my reading was fine, advanced for my age in fact. My misspellings are often more because my mind tried to process the second part of the word before it was finished with the first one, so letters would be swapped around. I remember autism/Asperger's being mentioned, too. One of my teachers suggested I got tested for a vague 'something' but nothing came of that because he never specified, so my parents didn't know what it was.

I hyperfixate. The best example I can find of these growing up is Pokémon and Harry Potter. My need to know everything I possibly could about these worlds, and when I wasn't actively engaging with them, I was researching them. My wandering mind in class was often thinking of one of these two subjects.

The way I read is certainly odd. I read fast out of necessity, otherwise I have a tendency to get bored with the material. I skim several passages, often with the result that I have to go back and reread because I missed something. And I'll often read a few pages, then stare out the window, than a few more, than look at my phone for a while. But it's a method that works for me, and I'm happy with it.

There's a good few times I got into trouble as a child which I think might have been related to it. When I was four, we went into the school hall for my first PE lesson, and there was an uncovered piano that I made a beeline for. I used to 'play' one round at a relatives. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to, surely? Mum used to retell it saying the teacher said I had been "really naughty." I'm not sure if this one is anything to do with ADHD, or just being four years old. Later, I got in trouble for blurting out "It's a spider!" in Charlotte's Web. Not sure how much this was a spoiler, considering there was a spider on the cover. There was the time I was in trouble at eleven for drawing on a spelling test, because how dare you show any sort of creativity in school.

There was one time I found a little scrap of paper under a chair at school - I was about seven - and picked it up and ripped it into progressively smaller pieces. The teacher was talking, and I seem to remember the subject was the religion of Islam, although my memory may be slightly faulty. The teacher told me to pick it up and put it in the bin, then stand at the front and tell the class what I've learnt about Muslims. I repeated almost her whole lecture back to her. "I've learnt that their holy book is called the Koran, and they worship at a mosque. I've learnt that the women often cover their hair..." It was like by engaging my subconscious mind on something mindless, my conscious was better able the process the information.

I have so many novels that I started writing and never finished. Textbook having many projects simultaneously on the go. The longer I spend away from one, the harder it is to get back to it.

I act impulsively - bad financial control is how this one presents itself. I'll walk into a shop not meaning to buy anything and come out with something that I really don't need. Especially bad around books. And sometimes if there's nothing in the house I think 'oh, I'd like to go and buy myself some chocolate' followed by 'but you really don't need to' but it can be hard to shake the idea. Although I can monitor this one somewhat now I am aware of it.

I find it hard to sleep. I used to stay awake longer than I should, playing video games. When I actually went to bed, I toss and turn for ages. I'm better at monitoring when I actually go to bed now, but going to sleep is another matter. It still takes me a good few hours to get to sleep. It can take me several hours more than anyone else in the room. And if I'm sleeping in the same room as someone else, forget it.

I don't actually get bored easily because I switch from one activity to the other a lot. I am quite good at keeping my own mind occupied when left to my own devices. If I'm in a situation where I have to sit still and concentrate for long periods of time, my mind will wander, but often I won't get bored because of what I'm thinking about. If a task is repetitive and mindless and I have to keep on it for a long time, then I may get bored.

I can almost run a checklist. Bad handwriting? Check. A temper? Sometimes. Impatient? Check. Difficulty following instructions? Check. Procrastinating, especially when a task is difficult? Check. Often dropping a task before it is completed? Check. Forgetfulness? Check.

Like I said, I don't know for sure that I have it, but similar coping mechanisms seem to work. Just understanding my symptoms went a long way to allowing me to control them. I am not on any sort of medication, but I've heard it can work amazingly well for people. Fidget spinners are brilliant while I am relaxing at home, saving other items from going missing. Writing down appointments as soon as I can is huge - I forgot times of my own exams in school. Making sure I get into a habit - phone goes there, glasses go here - helps me to know where they are. I often turn up places early, because my time management is bad. I start tasks I need to do first and get them done, before I reward myself with something I like doing. I also like to go for a walk in the morning - exercising, especially outside, is recommended - it wakes me up and makes me feel prepared for the day. If there is anything I need to take with me, I put it somewhere where I can't miss it - I like the front door handle.

ADHD is often undiagnosed in girls, because they don't fit the stereotype of someone with ADHD, and girls learn to hide symptoms to fit in with adult expectations earlier. The inattentive subtype can be hard to spot, too. The quiet girl at the back of the class who's often looking out the window instead of working may display a few symptoms. If you think you might have it, do your own research, and ask someone who's known you since childhood where they think you fit.

Why We Should End The Stigma Around Periods

In a list of problems to care about, the stigma around periods sounds like it would be one of the less important things. And perhaps it isn't as vital as ending hunger, but there are some good reasons why it is an issue. And it's not like people can't care about multiple issues at once.

Under a cut because I know some people are uncomfortable with period-based discussion, but that's their personal choice.

A Maelstrom of Emotions

I got a nice new dress today, and I was happy about that.

Then I felt guilty for being happy, so soon after Mum's death. Then I felt sad about that. Then, I berated myself for being sad, it's a few weeks since and I'm not the only person in the world who has lost a parent. Then, I realised the dress had pockets, so that made me very happy. Then I wondered what other people might think about me, being happy about something so shallow and materialistic so soon after Mum's death. Then I decided I didn't give a damn about what people would think.

This hasn't been an isolated incident, either. Every time I've been happy over the last few weeks, I've gone through a storm of emotions. One second I'm up, and the next I'm down. I haven't been sad all the time, and I feel guilty. I've been happy and sad at the same time, even. I've also reminded myself that Mum would not want me to be sad all the time.

I've been angry at the stroke, and annoyed that it's not really a person I can take it out on. I've unfairly blamed the NHS, who did as much as they could and treated Mum and us with the utmost respect. I've felt guilty that it happened early, and I was awake but lying in. I heard Mum breathing oddly, but thought maybe she just had a cold. Even though the doctors said that a few minutes wouldn't make any difference, I have wondered if I just found her those few minutes early, if things could change. Maybe if we hadn't gone to the zoo the day before, she wouldn't have been so tired and maybe the stroke wouldn't have happened. If I could turn back time, could I make her go to the doctors and ask them to check for a blockage and take it out before it happened? At the very least, could I tell her everything I should have told her, before she died?

I can't remember the last thing I said to her. I can't remember the last time I told her I loved her. I made bargains, I wouldn't sigh and roll my eyes if she needed help with technology and I'd do more for her around the house and I'd stop doing the puppy-dog eyes "buy me stuff" that at 25-year-old really should have grown out of.

The one thing I've noticed is that I've been concerned about how my grief appears to other people.

During Mum's funeral, me and a friend started talking about Pokémon Go. This was nice, a small way in which I connected with the various people there. I also remember how, since the game came out, Mum would roll her eyes when she saw me playing it, but always asked "catch any rare ones?" Since then, I've been wondering what other people thought about me, discussing something like that at Mum's funeral. Then I decided I just don't care.

There have been times where I've wanted to talk to people, but I haven't, because no-one wants to hear someone going on about their dead Mum all the time. So I've been telling people I'm fine. I've had people respond with "That's good," and "You're doing well." Now, I've been wondering if people thought maybe I wasn't acting sad enough.

Now, I've decided I just don't care about other people perceive it. Everyone deals with grief differently. Any emotion I experience is acceptable and valid, but not always reasonable. Sadness is reasonable, happiness is reasonable. Blame and guilt are not.

My Mum Passed Away Recently...

Last weekend, we were camping.

On Tuesday, we went to a Zoo together.

On Wednesday morning, she had tea with my dad at 9am, and got up at 9:30 to take a shower. I was still in bed. Dad went downstairs to make breakfast.

Chin hair, Chin hair, go away, and don't come back another day

Not the most flattering of pictures, but I think
you need to see how bad it was

When I was in my late teens, I noticed a long, dark hair on my chin in the mirror after a shower. Thinking it had just came from my scalp and affixed itself there with water, I reached out to brush it away. Soon I realised it was growing from there. A few frantic seconds with a pair of tweezers later, it was gone, and I thought that would be the end of it. A few months later, there was another one. Then another, then two then three. It got to the point where I could no longer manage it solely from plucking, and I started booking myself in waxing appointments pretty frequently. They weren't only on my chin, either. Some of them would stray up to near my ears, or be almost on my cheek. I had nightmares that one day, I would wake up to a full-on beard. I think my saving grace was that it happened in my late teens. Secondary school teenagers would have been vicious about something like this!

One of the things I did was get tested for PCOS, which can cause this, but my results came back negative. And it just felt like the more I waxed, the worse it got. It came back sooner, and more of it. I was always jumpy afterwards, waiting for the point where it would become noticeable again. And it was noticeable. I spend a lot of my day with young children, and they commented on it. But once they've asked about it, they're over it, and still want you to join in their games. I actually prefer this to the adults "pretend not to notice, then laugh behind your back" method. Or maybe I just felt like that was what they were doing, because I was paranoid. I started wearing my hair down, pulling it forward, so it blended in a bit better. If I was a minor character in a book, I felt like my description would be "the woman with hair on her chin."

So, I looked into other hair removal options, and I decided to try laser hair removal at sk:n clinics. This isn't a review of laser hair removal or sk:n clinics in general, but a general comment of how I found it, so that other people will know what to expect. Also, bear in mind I am not saying that you have to or even should do this when it comes to removing body hair! It is just what I felt comfortable doing. You do you.

I booked in for my consultation online, and they phoned me up to ask a few questions. I didn't wax for a few months coming up to my appointment, so they could see exactly how bad it was. They were professional, friendly, and I was able to build up a rapport with them, since I saw the same lady when I went it. I had a large form to fill in, then they took me for a consultation. The one thing they do stress is that it's not a permanent removal, but a reduction. They then did a patch test with the lazer machine, which was fine for me.

Before my first treatment, I had to shave it, something that felt different to me, since I had been going out of my way not to shave the hairs on my chin. There's also a long list of aftercare procedures I must follow. Also, my word was it ever painful. I know people have different pain tolerances for different things, so don't let this put you off. I thought since I could handle waxing, I'd be fine. One thing I did do that I absolutely would advise is took a stress ball into the appointment with me, so I could squeeze it when it got painful. Certain patches were much worse than others.

The area that has been treated may feel sensitive or sore for a few days afterwards. I was given an aloe vera cooling gel to treat the skin. I also recommend something cold wrapped in cloth, and holding that on your skin.

I have a course of eight treatments booked, roughly a month between them. So far, I have had one, and it will be interesting for me to compare my results at the end, and to see how much regrowth, if any, I get a few years down the line.

But why do I feel the need to pay so much money to fit into society's acceptable standards? Or go through the pain associated with waxing, so that I felt more confident in my appearance? I wish I could hold my head up high, and be all "I have chin hair, what of it?" but I can't. Would I have wanted these treatments at all if society didn't make chin hair on women seem not normal? If I had no reason to feel self-conscious in my appearance, would I still have wanted it?

I don't know, and I can't answer these questions for the many other women who have hairs on their chin. Wear them proudly, or remove them, the only important thing is that you do what you want. But the one think I do know it this: you are not alone. When I was a teenager, I thought I was the only one with it. There is help and advice out there, and even if you just discuss it with someone close to you who you trust, there is someone who will listen.

Why I'm Atheist

When I was little, religion wasn't a huge part of my life at all. Mum and Dad didn't go to church on Sundays - I think they were too busy and were moving up and down the UK at the time. They put their religion down as Church of England on census forms and the like, but they weren't religious. When I was seven, we settled into Cambridgeshire, and one of my friends went to Sunday School. Of course, this meant that I wanted to go, because she did. I had no concept of what it actually was, though. So, since I went there, Mum started going to church, which I think she liked as it helped her fit into the new community we'd moved to. So at this point, yes, I did believe in something, at least the idea of God, heaven and an afterlife.

My secondary school was actually a church school, which I went because it was where my parents wanted me to go. Anyway, long story short, I didn't get on well there, and eventually moved to a more normal school. It was around this time I started seriously thinking that I didn't believe, at least not in the same way. However, I think these two events are less connected then they seem. Also incidentally, Mum had a falling out with some of the people at church. Still, churches are often such a huge part of small town life that we still attended events there regularly.

Sometime in my mid-teens, I realised I didn't believe in any sort of higher power or religion. However, I swung way too far the other way. I thought that religion was stupid, that it was the route cause of everything bad in the world. I blamed everything from the Holocaust to terrorism on religion. Despite the actual reason for this being bad people who would do bad things no matter what. Oh, and I thought Islam was bad because of making women wear the headscarf. Please remember I was 15. While my age doesn't give me an excuse, it does explain why I thought that way.

Now, though? Since going to University, I'm much more measured. With everything bad that goes on in the world, I don't see how there can be a benevolent God that's meant to look after everyone. However, I have seen how faith can do good things, too. It can encourage people to better themselves, or simply give someone something to hold onto in their darkest times. With all that's wrong with the would, I don't want to deny people things that bring them some form of happiness. For some people, it's sport. For me, it's reading and video games. And for some, it's faith. Also I have met Muslims who weren't bad people, who wore the headscarf because they wanted to. I realised that forcing women not to wear an item of clothing that they like is sexist, too. And it really wasn't my debate to have, considering I wasn't Muslim. My end view is that I don't mind other people being religious, so long as their beliefs don't infringe on anyone else's human rights.

With that said, though, I do really like hearing other people's views on faith. It is a fascinating topic.

Turning Twenty-five

Today is my 25th birthday.

Something in my head has marked 25 as the last year you can be young, and be forgiven for it. I'm still living with my parents, and I'm studying something where the majority of my classmates are 16. Sometimes, I feel like a failure compared to others my age. But then I think about what I do that others don't, and I feel a little better. I know it's not like I'm the only 25-year-old who's still living at home, but many of the ones I know have moved out. Still, that's the sort of thing that different people manage in their own time.

25 is halfway to fifty, and I can't deny I'm getting older, but I'm also feeling better and better as I get older. I'm more accepting of things now, then when I was young. I would berate myself for every minor mistake, and stress over every tiny thing I didn't like about my body. Now, I go "oh well" and get over it. I no longer take what others say about me to heart. I became good at believing if people didn't like me for who I am, they weren't worth impressing.

I guess what I'm saying is there's no reason to fear getting older, I no longer do. My life is getting better with each year. Getting older is only giving me more things to look forward to. More places to travel, books to read, people to meet.

What is Your Biggest Fear?

I always found this an odd question, because I never really thought I had one. I don't mean that like I was trying to be brave, but I've never minded spiders, wasn't afraid of the dark, injections never bothered me. Basically things people might bring out for this question as a default answer, I didn't really have. This isn't to say I never got scared, however.

There are those fears that are more intangible. Scared to go to school the next day, because I'd been bullied so bad the day before. Scared of going to class, because I'd forgotten to do the homework for it. Anxiety in social situations, where there are too many people who I don't know well. I will say that I've had some of the best experiences in my life when I've forced myself to overcome this and step outside my comfort zone. And worry about where my life is going, not living up to everyone's expectations, including my own, and not having enough time to have the life I want.

I think a lot of those things stem from something that I have realised recently is my biggest fear - people finding out I'm not the person they think I am, finding out myself that I'm not the person I think I am.

People naturally put on a lot of different faces with different people. And it's not that any one of these people is a lie - they're all different parts of my personality. If friends saw me with my parents, they probably wouldn't recognise me. If Mum asks me to do the washing up, expect a fair bit of pouting and "why me?" It's not that I won't do it - I understand my parents do a lot for me, and I'm happy to help - it's just that the complaining is kind of a game at this point. With friends, I'll sometimes start washing up voluntarily to give them a hand. I'll tidy houses if I'm staying over, or do little jobs if I'm asked. The way Mum and I act would actually take a little explaining to others. Then I have some friends that I'll go to for a good gossip and bitch, and others who think I'd never bitch. It's surprising how many people are surprised when I swear, or to learn that I drink occasionally. That's not too bad, but if someone who thinks otherwise learnt how lazy, disorganised or irresponsible I can be - even those who know this don't know how bad I can be about it - I'd hate feeling like someone thinks the worst of me.

But if I ever had to find out I'm not as brave as I think I am? That maybe I'm not as adventurous as I think I am? That I'm not smart or funny at all, and no-one really likes me people really just humour me? That I really am not nice and kind at all? I think I'd hate that more then anything else.

Dear Future Me

I’m assuming that I do still have some failures I don’t yet know about, because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t keep trying. But the fact that you’re reading this in the future shows that we’re succeeding at something, right? Maybe I’m naïve to believe that at one point, everything will be fine if I just keep trying. What if at one point I run out of attempts? Has that happened?

If I picture my perfect life at this point in time, I see a little house in London, with a small garden. That would suit me, not too much space for one person but enough to maintain. You take walks around a nearby park and try and see something new in London daily. You see a different part of England every weekend, a trip to a different city. You travel often. You can spend hours in a nice little study, writing, and when you’re finished, you take a book into a little reading nook and read. You have one room that is wall-to-wall books, and another that is wall-to-wall clothes. You watch films, TV shows, and play your favourite video games when you need a break. You don’t have pets, even though you like them, because they tie you down, and you don’t have children yet because you’re not ready. You never married. You spend most of your time on your own, but you see friends occasionally.

Maybe even further in the future, you have a child, a daughter. You raise her with a love of books. You instilled in her a love of travelling by taking her abroad at a young age. You play video games with her, introducing her to your favourites. You watch movies together, all the classics and the best new releases. You adopted a cat and a dog, so that she grows up loving animals. You teach her all about feminism. However, there are things you don’t want to teach her. You should try and raise her without making her worry about the food she eats. You don’t want her to fear getting older by acting like your age is a shameful secret.

The political environment as of right now feels more tumultuous than ever. It feels like a world tilted on its axis, and it’s either going to balance itself back together, or fall off completely. The actions of a few can make the world seem like an awful place, but as of late it is the actions of the many that are giving me hope. If one action can make even the slightest of differences, it’s worth doing. Even if that action doesn’t change things, but only reminds others that there is good in the world. I am writing this to you because I hope that in the years between me writing this and whenever you next read it, you will not have lost that small grain of hope.

From you from the past

Dear Past Me

I don’t know what point in time you’re reading this, but I have to tell you something that won’t be uplifting – wherever you are, you are going to fail at things, again and again. But that’s alright, because you know what? You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and you try again. Because the one thing you pride yourself on is not giving up, not giving in, in your ability to take what the world throws at you and come out the other side.

You try different things, different ways to succeed, but sometimes you can look back and wonder if you’ve actually ever succeeded at anything. Sometimes, it feels as if you never do anything nothing right. I can tell you that there are some things in your life that are going right. Because the same drive to try things even though you might fail is what causes you to attempt things you do succeed at. You have got on planes to go several thousand miles away, solo, to meet up with a group of friends.

You never let the world dictate what you should or shouldn’t be interested in. You shouldn’t be interested in video games, because you’re a girl – fuck them, you like them. You shouldn’t put so much effort into your appearance, its shallow – fuck that, you enjoy it. You shouldn’t watch Disney movies, they’re for kids – oh, who the hell cares what people like that think anyway? You’ve never in your life done anything because other people told you to. When Mum tells you to put make-up on and make an effort that day, you stubbornly wear jeans and a hoodie all day. But if someone tells you ‘guys prefer that natural look’ the day after, you’re likely to have done the heaviest, most noticeable make-up job you ever have. You don’t do anything to impress other people. You wear clothes you like, based on what you felt like that morning.

I say this because I know there are points in your life where you do try to hide your interests, because they’re considered uncool. Because you thought people would like you more if you had cool interests? So, let me tell you now that those types of people are not worth bothering with. If people are going to judge you based on what you do for fun, they aren’t anyone you should want as a friend. So, enjoy things that you want to enjoy, because you’ll be a lot happier in the long run.
From you from the future

I Still Miss My Dog

Growing up, I wanted a dog. Mum and Dad said that when I was seven, I could have a dog. I woke up on my seventh birthday and said “Can I have my doggie now?” Of course, they didn’t dive into things and it took us a little while longer to get set up, but we finally got her the summer of that year, from an animal shelter. Roxy, a German Shepherd/Border Collie cross. She was with me from when I was 7 until I was 21. She was 14 years old when she died, and she was the best dog ever.

Her old owners gave her up because she was too much work. By that, I mean they kept her locked in a tiny flat all day and then got confused when she destroyed things. How can you keep a puppy crossed of those breeds in a tiny flat? When I saw her in the shelter, she greeted us like we were her owners, running around like crazy. It’s as if she knew we were there to take her home. But I managed to get her to sit, there and then, for all of two seconds. When we took her home, we found out she could shake a paw. When I was sick, she’d sit beside me by the sofa the whole time.

She didn’t bark much, except when the post lady came. She was hyperactive in her early years and still had her moments into her senior years. She had a boyfriend, a boxer, and they would lick each other before haring over the fields together in a game of chase. She wasn’t too good with other dogs she didn’t know, and I had to keep her under control once while a Jack Russell had a right snarling go at her.

She was a scaredy dog, really. She had the normal doggie fears, vets, thunderstorms, fireworks. She didn’t like the crackling fireplace and would never snuggle up with me beside it. We had a fishpond, and in summer she’d sit in the shade next to it. Sometimes, the fish inside would splash around, with big splashes, and she’d jump up and run to the opposite end of the garden. She learnt to be scared of bees, after nosing a few on the clover and getting stung, she’d run a mile when one buzzed.

She loved snow, though. I used to throw her snowballs, which she loved. If they hit the ground, they’d disintegrate, but our smell was still all over it. Sometimes, she’d catch them in mid-air, leading to her standing with snow on her face. Better than normal tennis balls, which ended up down so many rabbit holes. One time, she found a branch about twice as big as she was, and dragged it back home.

She had her moments, too. One time, we bought a tuna melt panini home for my father, in the bags with the rest of the shopping, and left it unattended for two seconds. We came back to an empty wrapper, the panini gone. One time, she had a go at Mum’s homework. There used to be fox excrement over the fields where we walked her, and she would roll in every pile she found. And every hole in the fence we didn’t notice, she’d slither out of and find some mischief to get into over the road.

She slowed down. Her legs had been getting stiffer for years, but suddenly she wasn’t eating. For a dog that would finish her dinner in two seconds, this was a first sign something was seriously wrong. Then her legs gave out almost completely, she could barely hobble. This change from a perfectly lively elderly dog to could barely move happened over a week. We took her down to the vets. The vet took one look at her, and told us she really should be put to sleep. I cried, but she died peacefully. I’m sorry that she even got to that state before we got her there, but if we’d known something was wrong beforehand, we would have done something about it. She went downhill fast.

Even though her death was a few years ago now, not a day goes by when I don’t miss her. It’s not a constant hurt like it was when she first left us, but I’ll just see something that reminds me of her and wish she was still here. Some people might find it strange to miss an animal this much, but they don’t understand. She wasn’t just an animal, or a pet, she was family. She was with me for many of my formative years, and as an only child, she was my sister.

Why I Consider Myself a Gryffindor

When I first read the Harry Potter books, I knew I wanted to be sorted into Gryffindor. Every test I take online agreed, too. But do I have the actual trait of bravery that defines the house? It’s true I do things other people consider brave, like travelling on my own, even though I don’t think it’s anything impressive. It’s also true that I naturally try and avoid things I find scary. Did I subconsciously pick the options I knew would lead to that house? Well, maybe.

But I don’t think it would matter, because of one fact people forget: you can choose. And I think that students at Hogwarts are sorted not on the traits they have, but on the traits they value. Since most children will choose the house based on their values, that’s why it works. This explains how Peter Pettigrew ended up in Gryffindor – he asked to go there, and bravery was something he didn’t have but did want, and he looked up to the other Marauders who had it. On the other hand, Neville who asked to go into Hufflepuff was sorted into Gryffindor, because he admired his parents and wished he could be as brave as them, but didn’t think he was. Of course, we all know of Neville’s bravery at this point, but back then, eleven-year-old Neville didn’t think he had any, even though he wanted to. And Crabbe and Goyle, who never show any shred of ambition, probably asked to go into Slytherin.

And why wasn’t Hermione sorted into Ravenclaw? She says on the Hogwarts Express that she’d been asking around and wants Gryffindor. Also, every time she puts her hand up in class, knowing her classmates will laugh and call her a know-it-all, she’s being brave. Every time she goes into an exam, when failure is her biggest fear, she’s performing an act of extraordinary bravery. You have to remember that Hermione doesn’t want knowledge for knowledge’s sake, she wants to learn so she can be the best. Which does play into the negative trait of Gryffindors as always wanting glory.

Why do I not want Ravenclaw for myself, when I read so much? In school, I was often the person with my hand up. However, picking up a lot of information from daily life is not the same as purposefully learning it. Personally, I struggle with learning. I like reading non-fiction books at times, but the repetition you have to do to actually learn something tends to bore me. Now, I’m not saying that I dislike learning and never do it, just that it is a chore for me. Which is something I’m aware of and take into consideration when I have to learn. And while I always seemed to do well in class participation, the second I was given a worksheet and a book, my mind would wander. In fact, participating in class was a coping mechanism of mine to keep myself listening.

What’s your Hogwarts house? Do you feel you fit it’s traits exactly?

Why I Read

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads only lives one.”

I read a lot. It should be obvious to anyone who has looked through my previous blogs, or who knows me in real life. But many people now see reading as uncool. I’m not trying to act superior because I read, but it leads me asking myself “Why?” Most people I know read somewhat regularly, but then there’s the odd person who says “I never read.”

I always loved reading. It was one of the only things I remember being told I was good at, as a child. My first words were even “read book!” At least, that’s what my parents tell me, but I’m not sure if that’s just family legend at this point. I read upstairs, long after I should have been asleep, with my light on. Since I wasn’t allowed a TV in my bedroom, it became my go-to method of keeping myself awake.

I can go on an adventure, can experience successes and failures with these characters, and stay safe and warm at home. Their happiness is my happiness, their sadness is my sadness. I can defeat evil with them, celebrate when they win. Not many of us do get the chance to go on an adventure to save the world, so reading is the next best thing.

Reading takes me away from who I am. I didn’t always have a large circle of friends, and I grew up on the outside. Reading allows me to carry people who I care about around with me. It made me feel like I had somewhere to turn during my worst moments. People whose lives I am interested in. For a while, I am someone else, included and interacting with their circle of friends. You can see the world through someone else’s shoes and experience things you don’t usually.

Reading takes me away from where I am. I love travelling, but I can’t always do it, if my finances are tight. Through books, I can experience stories taking place all over the globe. I can travel back and forward in time. I can touch the farthest reaches of space or explore a completely different world to our own.

Reading takes me away from how I am. It’s relaxing. If I’m having problems, then for a few hours I get to be someone else, and experience their problems. I’ve often found advice, comfort or even solutions from what happens in books.

And why do I read to get these experiences? Surely, I can get these from films, TV, video games? I’m not denying that, and many of the reasons I enjoy watching TV or movies are for these exact reasons. I like a good story, no matter the medium in which it’s delivered. But in reading, I end up completely sucked into a world, almost in such a way that I forget I’m in the real one. I lose myself completely in the world of the book.

Christmas thoughts, yearly round up, and what I hope for the new year.

My life has been busy in the week leading up to Christmas, so this is just a small post to talk about how my Christmas was, how the year has been and what I hope for the new year.

This Christmas, more than any other, I felt grateful. I got bad presents, but I'm okay with that because  it means I have relatives who give me presents. We saw extended family on Christmas Day, and I didn't mind, and it was quite a nice afternoon, really. And we had a quiet, smaller family Christmas on Boxing Day, so I didn't miss out on that, either.

I flew out to Texas to visit friends just before Christmas, and I'm not even going to complain about the badly delayed flight I took to get there. Because the trip itself was worth every minute on a plane and every penny spent. And I have the means to go on trips like that, and people there who I can visit, and those are opportunities not everyone has.

And why do I feel so much more grateful this year than I have in years past? Because even if mine was bad, which it wasn't, some people had it worse. Carrie Fisher's family, George Michael's family, the families of all those who were on the Russian plane, will be reminded every year about their loss. I feel like Christmas must be the worst time to lose loved ones, as everyone else is so happy, and every year after, you'll be reminded about it as soon as decorations start going up.

As for the overall year, I feel I can't complain. Some things happened that I didn't like, but a lot of good things happened, too. I hope that people can look forward to next year in the hope that it might be better.

My new years resolution was to read over 40 books in the year, keeping a count of them. Well, I can tell you now that my end figure was... 51. To some people, that's a large figure, to others it might seem sort of small. For me, though, I'm happy with that. I'm very sporadic about my reading - some months I can get through eight books, others I can barely get through one. And that's okay, as reading, like so much else, is different for everyone.

For my new years resolution this year, it is to finish a book. I don't care if it's 50,000 words of unpublishable tripe, just having the feeling that I can write that much would be good, and would spur me on to write more in the future. At least I hope so.

Only Child Things

At this time of year more than any other, I find myself pondering the idiosyncrasies of being the only child. At least, the parts of my personality that were somewhat formed by it. And no, I don’t think I’m selfish or spoilt, and we aren’t necessarily as a rule. But I guess every family position has its own standard character trait. The oldest is bossy, the middle is ignored by their parents, the youngest is the baby, and only children are selfish. There are a lot of books that use these tropes and link their personality traits to their position in the family. It’s a lazy writing technique. If you are trying to portray a character as spoilt, show us that, don’t just say they are because they are the only child. But this wasn’t meant to turn into a writer’s workshop.

At Christmas, there were only three of us. And I don’t feel like I got an especially large number of gifts because I was the only. My extended family is rather small, too. Seeing the presents of some of my friends with siblings and more relatives, I was often surprised by how large their piles were. But I never minded this, because the presents I did get, I liked. They were often something I had chosen myself. Since I often got a new game, the rest of Christmas was me playing the game while my parents cooked the dinner. At dinner, it was the only time of the year I could say no to vegetables. Afterwards, the three of us would sit on the sofa, watch Christmas movies and eat chocolate. It was perfect to me, since this was what I was used to. But for people with more siblings and larger extended families, this seems surprising. “Isn’t that boring?” I’ve been asked before. Now, having experienced a few Christmases with the larger family, I would quite like to go back to our quiet ones.

I was never spoilt. Since there was only one of me, it was hard for me to talk my parents into buying things. It took a while for me to get a games console, as I “had no-one to play it with.” I never got the trampoline I wanted, either. I feel like with a sibling, we could have both tried to convince our parents of the necessity of having the current ‘In’ toy of the period. I also got the blame for everything, even when it was my friend’s siblings that had drawn on the walls. If there’s only one, bad grades stick out more. Messy rooms stick out more. Well, probably not, but it felt like it sometimes, growing up.

I also was never lonely. I was, however, often called a 'loner' by teachers. But I liked being alone, and that isn't the same as being lonely. Of course, liking to be alone is considered odd in today's society, and I had to go to classes to get me to mix. Funny, I never remember the other children having classes about being more including. But I had friends, and my close family, and never considered myself lonely until "only children are lonely children" was said to my face. I still like my time alone, even now.

There is also a lot of pressure. In families with more than one child, the expectation is that one will settle down and start a family, therefore giving their parents grandchildren, and one will have the high-powered career they can brag to their friends about. If they’re lucky, it will be abroad somewhere, so they don’t need to pay for hotels when they go on holiday. And when parents grow older, duties for looking after them can be handled between siblings. But with an only child, there is none of that. I’ve expressed a desire to live in other countries before, at which my parents acted affronted about me leaving them on their own. If I express concern for how I might look after them when they’re older, they say “well, you’re not putting me in a home,” and about five seconds later worry about the care of an elderly relative if he doesn’t go in a home. And I’ve had people completely unrelated ask me when I’m going to give my Mum a grandchild – like that’s my sole responsibility. I know a lot of people feel the pressure to have children, but when people say it to me, I get the air that they consider me selfish for not doing it, since I’m my parents only chance to have grandchildren. I genuinely love kids, and I would think the most selfish thing I could do is to purposefully have a child when I know I’m in no-way ready for it.

One thing I do think came mainly from being the only child is my independence. I had to find ways to play by myself, so I was quite content making up imaginary worlds in my head. I would often be reading or gaming solo, and it has had the effect of making me gravitate towards single-player games over multi-player games as a whole. Now, I can easily get myself from one end of the country to the other by myself, and keep myself amused the whole way there.

I did express the wish for a brother or sister a few times, but I don’t remember doing it that often. I think seeing how my friends interacted with their siblings put me off!

Where do you fall in your family tree? Do you have any traits that might have been influenced by that?