Energy Archives : Me, Annie Bee.

“To perform like Linford, you’ve got to think like Linford….”

Anna — Tue, 13 Sep 2016 19:15:28 +0000

n the 90s, Kris Akabusi (the most smiley athlete in all the land, nay the world) told us we had to have PMA to succeed. Positive Mental Attitude. OK, so he was trying to flog us a certain brand of washing powder but it’s always stuck with me, if in a lighthearted way. When stuff is a bit tough or if someone has an interview I’d declare “PMA” but I didn’t really think anything of it. Until now. I’ve mentioned a couple of times I’ve been doing a lot of positive thinking of late. It was a conscientious decision, which I appreciate is a bit weird, but bear with…. Every day, when I wake up I spend a couple of minutes thinking about the things I am grateful & thankful for and the things I want to happen, both big and little.The obvious things like my children, Rory, my health, a decent nights sleep, a well behaved child. Then throughout the day, in (rare) moments of quiet I think again about the things that have made me grateful, thankful and happy that day. The dogs in the car that made me smile, the stranger who said hello, having a good catch up with a friend, the sun shining, making five minutes to chat to the neighbour rather than dashing off, Seth trying to say ‘squirrel’ (seriously, it’s too cute), a friend having happy news, a good cup of coffee. Anything and everything that has made me smile or feel thankful I have listed mentally (and sometimes physically). I know this sounds simple but at first it was incredibly hard to do. It really shouldn’t be, it should be so easy to walk along the street, see something that makes you smile and be thankful but it is hard. Maybe because I’m such a negative ninny. Maybe because we all tend to overlook the small things as inconsequential when actually they are as important than the big things. But now I’m well into it and you know what? I swear it works. I generally feel better and happier. I catch myself with a small smile on my face for no reason. I feel more positive about life and now life doesn’t seem to have quite as many tough moments. I feel like I can actually achieve something (I don’t know what yet but it doesn’t matter, I CAN FRICKIN’ DO IT). I even (and this is the big one) seem to have a better attitude toward myself. I used to look in the mirror and say to myself “My God, you disgust me. Look at you, you’re awful. Why do people bother with you?” (I was pretty mean) But just the other day, I looked in the mirror and I said to myself “Crikey, you’re looking old but today you look OK” and that felt good! I know this approach won’t work for everyone, everyone has different issues and things going on but speaking about me and for me alone. This works. I’ve realised I was surrounded by negative people, probably because I was so negative myself, and it got me stuck in a loop. I’m still there for my friends and I will be always, night or day but I’ve realised I can’t be responsible for their happiness and I can’t take it all in and dwell on it on their behalf. There are still massive difficult moments but instead of just getting down and thinking the worst I know try to turn a negative into a positive. Aoife having a massive meltdown is not fun but I am grateful that she has the intellect to vocalise her opinion even though it may seem cheeky and sassy (and sound a LOT like something I would say)… A friend might be having a hard time and I feel powerless to make them feel better but I am grateful that they feel they can tell me they are having a hard time as that itself MAY have helped them feel a bit lighter or just like someone cares. So yes, that’s all the hippy shit I’m up to but it’s working. I don’t know who I’m telling or thanking. It could be God, the universe, life, nature. I suppose that’s for us to decide personally. But I would definitely suggest you try it, just for a week. Write down everything, be amazed at how the small things define your mood. Believe that good things will happen. I now try not to say “I might” instead I try to say “I will” even if it sounds ridiculous. I appreciate everything and everyone I have. Except you, yes you there, at the back (Kidding). That fact I can look in the mirror without (mostly) feeling self loathing and the fact that for the first time in five years I can actually see myself as a decent mummy is enough for me ? I do, however, worry that my new found optimism will render me humourless, because, you know, I was pretty funny before…… Just a note here, I had written this post earlier today, before I spent an hour at the hairdresser in front of the most unflattering mirror EVER. I noted my cheeks are too wobbly, my jowls are setting in, my roots need colouring, my chins are too many, my hips too wide and I’m almost certain I see the makings of a moustache. Given that lengthy list it was pretty tough to find a positive. I did find one though. I am grateful that my hairdresser clearly didn’t do maths at school and mistook 2 inches for 4 inches as it actually worked out OK for my head in the end. PMA See. It works. Also, I hope you all like my new blog. Got me my own name in a website (it is almost like my name in stars) and I think it looks cleaner. Feedback would be appreciated, unless it’s mean. .

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“It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves”

Anna — Tue, 02 Aug 2016 18:21:00 +0000

I ONLY FLIPPING DID IT!!! Seriously, I did it. It took 6 hours 20 minutes, (EDIT Rory’s fancy watch tells us we did it in just over 5 hours!) one almost panic attack, one cry, one toilet break, a banana, a cereal bar, water, chipped nail varnish, a lot of “sorry”, “shit” and “Whoaaaa ‘king hell” and one massive “SHIT ON IT” But I did it. Firstly, I would like to advise anyone planning a jaunt up Snowdon that 7am is NOT early enough to get a parking space. Despite my best laid plans, that mountain was flipping busy at that time and the car park was full! Climbing folk are a REALLY eager bunch. I barely slept the night before, I was proper awake from 5am, clearly VERY excited to get my PE kit on (the most uncomfortable outfit I’ve ever worn). I got up, put on my super glittery shoes and was ready to rock. It was these laces that got me through. We decided to follow the Miner’s track, I was sure I had read this was an easier route. That wasn’t the case! It started beautifully, a gradual incline, past a couple of lakes. We could take in the views across the valley. There was a pretty waterfall. Perfect! Then I noticed some people up there, WAAAAAAYYYYYY up there. “Is that where we’re meant to go?” “Yes” ‘Hmmmmm’ I wondered ‘How will we get up there? Maybe the path swoops round and up or something’. No. There was no swooping. The track stops at the bottom and it becomes “a hard climb over scree” (wish I’d read the Internet properly before) I don’t know what scree is, I’m guessing it means ‘lots of rocks and difficult stuff’. Now I knew it was going to be hard but I think I had convinced myself it would be a tough uphill walk on uneven terrain, I don’t think I’d realised I’d have to do actual climbing on actual rocks. The worse thing is they just let anyone pootle on up and try. I’m sure that’s a health and safety issue or something. I’m not a big fan of heights, I couldn’t look up to where we were headed as it made me start to fall over backwards (no idea WHAT that’s about, it’s this weird thing that happens when I look up at high things) so I just had to focus and push on. All the while Rory was super patient and brilliant. After a few hair raising moments I made it to the top and…… It was misty. I couldn’t see a sodding thing. I didn’t feel a sense of elation. I don’t know what I expected, I think it was such a big deal to me that maybe I hoped the clouds would part, sunlight would stream down onto me and choirs of Angels would sing Alleluia. I’ll be honest, I REALLY thought Rory would propose to me once I’d made it to the top. He’d be so proud of me he’d just have to marry me! Instead it was grey, cold and wet and I was petrified as I didn’t know how I was going to get down. I have this thing where I can get into a loft or up a tree just fine but I can’t get back down once I realise how high up I am. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do the scramble down if I could see how high up I was so I did what any self respecting, middle aged woman would do. I cried a minute then rang my mum (bizarrely the best mobile reception I had in Wales was atop that mountain) then I pulled myself together, or rather Rory presented me with a badge and spoke to me in his ‘serious’ voice. The badge I didn’t go to the actual summit (it’s like a stone staircase to a nubbin on top of the mountain) as it was very small and I was sure I’d fall off. I was also really pissed off that the summit was full of people in white trousers, sun hats and Birkenstock’s who had taken the train to the top and were taking victorious pictures on the summit as if they’d actually climbed the sodding mountain. I’d done blood, sweat and tears. They’d got a train. Theirs was a victory of LIES. Me at the bottom of the summit whilst those who got the train took photos of fake glory. #notbitter After some encouragement from Rory, I made it back down the mountain in one piece and even managed a chuckle to myself when I realised that on the way up I was all “Ohh look at the lovely lake” and on the way back I was all “FUCKSAKE HOW BIG DOES A LAKE NEED TO BE?” But I was a bit sad because I didn’t feel proud of myself. I felt cross with myself for being scared. I felt cross with myself for crying. I felt cross with myself for not thinking the (cloud obscured) view was worth it. I felt cross with myself for not doing it faster. But I didn’t feel pride. It was done, the thing I had been fretting about and looking forward to and dreading was done and I felt nothing but tired. On Sunday I told anyone who asked that I hated it, it was the worst thing I’d ever done and I’d never do it again. I think I even declared it worse than the 31 hours labour with Aoife (and that was a pretty shitty time). We went for a self congratulatory meal and well deserved beer, then continued our minibreak in the way that normal people do. Celebration drink, I discovered Snowdon Craft Lager and fell in love. A ride on a steam train, talking about the children, talking to the children and looking at pictures of the children. As we came home today, Rory drove past Snowdon, we couldn’t see it for the mist but it happened. I felt a twinge of pride. “BLOODY HELL I CLIMBED A MOUNTAIN!” It suddenly washed over me, I was proud of myself and I had the right to be proud of myself. It wasn’t a cure for cancer. It wasn’t a selfless act that helped thousands of other people. It was something that many other people have done. But it was my challenge and I overcame it and now I was proud. I even caught myself saying to Rory “Next time we do it I’ll…….” I walked from the hill at the far right of the picture, Past the lake, Yes that is MILES. Unfortunately, this pride seems to be manifesting itself in me pointing at ANY peak, within England and Wales, and saying “You see that? I climbed higher than that”. It’ll get boring quick. For everyone else. Not me I climbed right up that. RIGHT UP IT

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