Be a creator of time

Have you ever been guilty of saying:

“I don’t have any time” or “I’m too busy”?

And then the eye-roll that follows the response of, “Well make time.”

Is it possible to be a creator of time? To stretch the intangible and make it suit our needs?

Scientifically, no, because we have decided there are 24 hours in a day, 60 minutes in an hour etc. If time is a man-made thing, why aren’t we utilising that structure rather than assuming it as a limitation? While we can’t physically make more time, there are ways of making more of your time, which I’ve been slowly learning since the beginning of October when I started full time postgraduate study. Most people I talk to about it can’t understand how I’m “fitting it in”, because we all have a finite amount of time each day, week, month to do stuff with. I was nervous over the summer thinking and worrying about the same thing; how will I manage? How will I dedicate enough time to it?

Don’t get me wrong, it’s tiring because I’m doing more in the same amount of time, but I’m happier knowing I’m making the most out of my time each day. (Well, most days. I do still have those stay-in-my-pjs-and-watch-tv-days).

Ok so these aren’t tricks, and they definitely aren’t the beginnings of a new science, but they’re just a few examples of how I’ve been managing full time work, full time study and a looking after my own home (and myself) over the past couple of months.

Train time…

Is golden. If any of you geniuses out there are commuting by train, tram, bus, or anything else more exotic where you’re not the driver, use this time to do something you wouldn’t usually do. Rather than staring into space, read a book or listen to a podcast. Make it useful time rather than redundant time. I calculated the number of hours I used to waste on my commute and it was an eye-watering 12.5hrs per week! Now it’s golden time for getting through my course reading (and some of my favourite hours of the week).

Sleep…

Is a necessity. Never cut corners when it comes to your sleep. Find your ideal number of hours’ sleep each night and build it into your routine. You’ll find you’re able to function much more effectively if you let yourself rest in between those hectic days. I try to go to bed at the same time each night and it generally means I wake up at the same time each morning. That way I know how much time I’ll have in the day to make use of, as there’s nothing I hate more than feeling I’ve “lost time” or am late for something.

Being strict with yourself…

Is the hardest part. Have you ever been guilty of saying “just one more hour” in the office, and then it turns into almost three hours and you’re on a late train home and you get back and there’s no food in the fridge so you’ve got nothing for dinner and you resort to having cereal before heading to bed? Yep, me too! Some people call it being a workaholic but I just think it’s a symptom of conscientious people who care about doing their job and doing it right, and so the lines between working hours and down-time become blurred. It’s easily done. But I’ve made a significant change to my own behaviour and know that twice a week I have to switch off from work, pack my laptop away and make the short trip from my office to university. As there’s nothing I hate more than being late, the first couple of times I hadn’t quite mastered the art of switching off from work at a reasonable time have become my motivation to never do that to myself again. We’ve created time, so why not create your own boundaries within that to stop time running away from you.

Brain space…

The one I’m not sure I’ve ‘got’ yet. Brain space is something I think about quite a lot and it’s a phrase I use at work when I need to get up from my desk and go for a walk, even just to get a glass of water, to distract myself from what my brain was working on. Brain space. I’ve not quite mastered it but I’m working on it. Sometimes I feel like my head is too full and I struggle to make my thoughts about corporate projects stop and my creative ideas about identity in 21st century literature take over. Although I’ve not got the hang of it, I’m almost certain that brain space is central to being a creator of your own time. It’s not about cramming, filling, overwhelming. To make more out of your time is to just do more with it, think more in it, feel more of what you choose to do.

So we can’t stretch time, because there will likely always be 24 hours in a single day, but we can be smarter with our time. Do what you love and use your time each day to do it.

Fear

What news to wake up to. Considered a “major incident”, a “possible terror attack”, where a “48-year-old-man has been arrested.”

The Finsbury Park savage attack has been reported with no mention of the perpetrator’s background and a late recognition of this for what it is: a terrorist attack. This was a deliberate attack on Muslim lives and the media fail to call it what it is.

I cringe watching the news. The language is one of demonising the “Islamists” – despite the fact the criminals carrying out attacks in the name of Islam are the furthest thing from Muslim – and of protecting terrorists and criminals from other backgrounds. The word “criminal” is very rarely used in the media. When a terrorist attack occurs we should identify the evil individuals as nothing more than criminals. Irrespective of their background they have one thing in common – the evil motive of terror. They are not worthy of media attention. We should not report on their background, “inspiration”, or ideology. We should not give them a platform. They are not worthy of a name. They are inhumane. Monsters.

Muslims worshipping at their local mosque are well within their rights to do so, and more importantly have the human right to feel safe in the world and within their communities. This atrocity is an attack against human life, shared values of love, respect and unity. I fear for my loved ones who are Muslim, who pray at their local mosque. I worry for their lives every time they leave their homes. It should be a joint responsibility to protect one another, irrespective of our backgrounds.

London, I love you. We are all with you. The most beautiful multicultural city in the world will never be broken. Stand strong and stay united. 

Dad

My dad: a wise, intelligent, caring, gentle giant. 

The relationship I had with my dad growing up was one to admire, something to cherish. We would have in-depth debates about really interesting topics; he would have the patience of a saint when it came to tutoring me; he would make me laugh through his sarcastic tone; he would hold my hand tight and make me feel like the safest girl in the world; and he would always tell me to give him my cold if ever I got one. He encouraged me to be the best that I could be, he pushed me when I needed it most and he cuddled me when I was sad. He was the kind of dad who would warm up my bedsheets with a hairdryer when I was little just in time for when I came out of the bath.

He would go to the ends of the earth.

But more recently our relationship has been strained. I have let him down by going against expectations and he has hurt me by putting his pride above his love for me. My marriage to a man from a different religious and cultural background has changed everything about the relationship between my dad and me. I think marriage can do that anyway, but this isn’t just that. He didn’t walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. He never contacts me. He won’t call, he won’t message, he won’t come and see me. So I’ve stopped calling too. I go to see him as often as I can but when I do he doesn’t feel up to talking to me so I end up trying to fill the gaps of silence and crying all the way home because I miss him.

Not only have I always been a daddy’s girl but I was also born on the same day as the man I love most in the world. It makes my birthday extra special but also very lonely when he doesn’t want to share it wth me anymore. 

I hope one day he can forgive me for letting him down, for hurting him, and for not being who he wants me to be. I hope one day he realises how deeply I will always love him. But for now, I wish him a happy Father’s Day, for all the years of love he has given me. Those are the years I will never forget.

Confessions of a CV snob

Today is my 1 month work anniversary. So far I’ve been abroad; worked with people across the world, managing in some cases an 8+ hour time difference; and launched 3 projects. Safe to say I’ve been thrown in at the deep end but I don’t know any other way to learn. 

Accepting a new job offer is always a risk, particularly if it involves swapping allegiance to a new company, adopting a new way of working, and completely changing your way of life as a commuter. I was overwhelmed in my first week, trying to absorb as much information as possible and honestly just remember everybody’s names! (I confess, I did have a page at the back of my new notebook – because every job calls for a new notebook – with a scribbled names list). I guess I was unsure about something new. Change is not my forte but I’ve noticed an ability in myself to not let that show. Inside I was panicking, telling myself I wasn’t good enough, and running through the best and worst excuses I could think of to avoid uncomfortable situations, but on the outside I would have a steady hand, a strong handshake and a pretty convincing smile. Once I started meeting people it was clear that I would fit here and I’ve had an absolute blast in my first month.

I won’t list all the things I’ve learned and I won’t bore you with the mistakes I’ve made and how I fixed them, but I will say that the best way to job hunt is to draw out your “ideal CV”. Put your name right at the top of a blank page and explore what you would want your CV to look like. What do you want people to see when that CV lands on their desk? How do you want to be perceived? What strengths do you want to possess? Don’t let the world prescribe a career to you. It’s so easy to get caught up in competition with peers, and it’s even easier to accept a tempting job offer just because it’s the first one that’s come your way. Some of the best decisions I’ve made have involved saying no to prospective employers and job offers. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but they just weren’t right for me. If someone asks me what do I want to do when I grow up, I still won’t be able to tell them. But if they ask me how I want to be perceived, then I can reel off a long list, because those are the things that are important to me. I guess it goes back to what Simon Sinek preaches, “it’s not what you do it’s why you do it.”

I am a CV snob. I set out a list of what I want and I won’t pursue or accept anything in the meantime that doesn’t fit that. I wanted something new, scary, bold, challenging, completely out of my comfort zone. And that’s exactly what I’m getting. 1 month in and I’m excited for what’s ahead!

Why not give it a go? 

First impressions

It’s 2am and I’m wide awake lying in a hotel room in a foreign country staring at the patterned ceiling, running through the events of the day, trying to work out what first impression I conveyed to my new colleagues.

Every other sentence was a question, which can often make me feel like I’m being a nuisance, but I’m hoping it presented itself as curiosity or enthusiasm. I was impressed by what I saw and I told my new colleagues exactly that, which I only wanted to sound genuine. I did though totally forget to have lunch, as I landed at midday and made my way straight to the office (keen bean in action). My tummy was telling me it was actually 7am and I’d already had breakfast at tummy-time 4am so I wasn’t lunch-ready until the adrenaline wore off, realised it was 6pm and I hadn’t eaten all day.

Having had almost a a three week break and a fantastic holiday between jobs, I’m officially jet lagged but with a refreshed mind ready to take on new information. A few weeks ago I had work-stuff running through my head like a film reel, unable to switch off (the handover period is the busiest time!) but as I’ve now discovered there’s something quite refreshing about starting anew. Imagine a CLEAN email inbox – I mean empty! But on a serious note, I consciously chose to use the word ‘anew’ because you’re never really starting again, rather starting something new. There’s some comfort in that. You always take everything you know with you, as well as what you don’t know, and the new thing is supposed to fill in some of the blanks, giving you fresh opportunities and learning along the way. It’s a bit like starting your first year at secondary/high school, where you’re suddenly on the first rung of the learning ladder again.

Nobody expects you to know everything. In fact I think new employers quite like you to be a sponge at first, soaking up information and nuggets of knowledge along the way through interaction with new people and things. There’s also something to say for challenging what you see. Be inquisitive and ask the questions that are on the tip of your tongue but your “I’m too new” inner voice is stopping you from uttering. No one likes a know-it-all but sometimes a fresh pair of eyes is all something needs to renew itself.

If someone had told me just 6 months ago that I’d be travelling alone for work, I’d ask them to come with me to keep me company. I’ve always been a home girl, and I never really like to be too far particularly on my own. But here I am, in a foreign country having just successfully got through the first day of my new job at a new company. I had privately set myself the challenge this year to put myself out of my comfort zone and this is definitely that. It’s always scary being new, but you’re never new for long! 

“On the bench”

I’m sat on the sofa, feet up, with the constant chants of a crowd filling my ears in the background – hubby is watching the football.
I’m not really paying attention, just scrolling through my social media aimlessly. But one of the commentators just said:

Some of them just haven’t been given much of an opportunity to show us how good they are. As a manager, he’s not too well known for playing many teenagers. They tend to get stuck on the bench.

Sad story, that. And a useful metaphor for the workplace, I think.

I’m an ambitious, young, independent, driven, young woman. I also purposefully said “young”, twice. Because it seems to be the thing that people notice more than any of the other qualities I or anyone else my age possess.

Ever felt “stuck on the bench” at work? As though you’re a substitute, just having to wait your turn because of an unsaid truth or status quo? I’m here to tell you stick two fingers up to the status quo, and smash straight through those glass ceilings – there’s a reason those things are transparent, and that’s to tell you to ignore the barrier and strive for what you deserve. 

They’ll tell you you’re “still young,” “too young,” “it’s too early,” “what do you want progression for? That comes in time.”

And it does. That’s very true. Time is a brilliant thing that makes us a little wiser – it’s what gives us the one thing that appears on every job description: experience.

But, that’s not to say you have to sit back while time passes. Who says you have to watch it tick by? Why should you? They’ll tell you “it’s just how it is” and it’ll feel like they know best because undoubtedly they are more experienced than you; but does that necessarily mean they’re right?

Sometimes they will be, but what if you could be in with a chance of doing it differently? What if you could grow and develop and progress at your own pace, and not at the snails pace that seems to be dictating it for everybody else?

With a little bit of determination and just the faintest whiff of self-belief, you can. 

You don’t have to be stuck on the bench.

Be the striker, not the sub.

What are you famous for?

Over the last few months I’ve been battling with a question a senior manager presented to us as a team: What are you famous for?

I brushed it off as a fleeting comment at first, but its recurring utterances soon told me it was a “big idea” that was here to stay. I went for the obvious:

“Well, THIS THING, of course.” Duh!

But that was quickly shot down: “No, that’s not anything special.”

Then I tried explaining not what I do, but how I do it, based on a personal view of my approach to work as well as what peers have fed back to me over time:

“Well, people know me for how I work – I think that’s what I’d be famous for.”

That one didn’t pass the test either.

So I tried thinking about it another way: “Surely you shouldn’t have to ask the celebrity why they’re famous? Ask their fans, their promoters, their advocates.”

Again, no luck.

By this point my fuse was too short and I was frankly too busy actually doing the things I should be famous for to take up anymore of my time with this riddle. Not because I thought it was below me, but because it felt like people were shifting the goal-posts, rendering it an unachievable guessing game. I became increasingly frustrated, certain that I’d been given an action to prove why I’m worth it – whatever “it” was. I’ve never been one to shout from the rooftops about what I’ve delivered, nor have I ever been a “forced networker” in the sense of using people for your own gain. And I didn’t like feeling that the only way to be noticed, or recognised, was to be that person.

It was clear to me that what I was doing and how I was doing it meant very little unless  I made it someone else’s business to notice. So for once in my life I gave up on something. I even stopped caring. And those are traits I’m not willing to let become part of me. So before I let the politics get me down, I made a change. A wise friend once said: “There are certain battles you can never win, and you have to cultivate a level of acceptance or it will damage you in the end.”

I’ve accepted the way things are, but not what they could do to me.

Today I resigned from my job.

What are you famous for?

I’ll let you be the judge of that.

 

Edited

It’s been a while since I last had the will to write.

I used to write all the time, especially as a child, in different coloured crayons on pretty writing paper; it used to occupy me for hours. I’d like to be able to say, “I’ve been busy,” but that’s not the only reason I’ve been avoiding my blog for over a year. It’s about time I faced up to what’s been holding me back: ANXIETY.

Every sentence I would write, I’d simply edit, delete, re-write a few times over, preventing any blogs from appearing on my site.

Being home alone was my idea of hell, yet everytime I needed to go out, just pop to the local shops, it would take me hours of pep-talks and self-motivation to get to the front door.

The thought of venturing into a busy city would terrify me, even though parts of central London are my favourite places in the world.

This month alone though, I’ve ventured into London and managed a whole day out and about; I’ve got myself a new pair of glasses that make me feel more conscious of the fact I’m wearing them; I’ve just taken a leap of faith in accepting a new role at a new company, leaving everything I know behind; and I’ve managed to stay home alone for a whole night with all the lights off.

I’ve also just admitted to all of those things in writing, so there’s no taking them back. Anxiety isn’t a pretty truth, but it’s important that we talk about it. I think it’s part and parcel of facing it head-on, and someone once said that’s the only way to face what we’re scared of.

 

0-60 in 3 seconds

You may be disappointed to find this post is not about cars in any way. It’s about my brain. I don’t blame you for not wanting to read on – the title is a little deceiving.

I cannot think of a single morning in the last few months that I haven’t woken with a jump and within 3 seconds been whizzing through wedding-planning lists in my head at 60mph. It’s exhausting.

There are things nobody tells you about planning a wedding, particularly what happens to you in the lead-up. So I’m going to write the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

1. Nightmares

Nobody told me I could suffer from bad dreams for about a month before the wedding. From the beginning of July, I have had a horrible dream, every night, without fail, and almost all of them involve the groom going missing in some way; whether that’s in the form of him running away abroad just to get away from me or just not turning up on the day, they’re always pretty stressful.

2. Lack of sleep

The bad dreams make for a restless night, and total lack of sleep – oh and dark circles under the eyes, I might add. So much for beauty sleep! No such thing! If you’re a bride-to-be (and a worrier, like me), then your sleep will be completely disrupted. Even if consciously you feel fine, and even if every time someone asks you how you’re feeling your immediate response is ‘can’t wait’, sub-consciously you’re probably freaking out. I’m proof of this.

3. Weight loss

I have probably been eating more than I usually do in the last few weeks, but the constant on-the-go life that comes with planning a wedding around a full-time job, means I’ve lost a little bit of weight just before the wedding. Thankfully, my dress still fits, but that’s not to say the weight loss didn’t contribute to a whole lot of stress before my final fitting.

4. Hair loss

So I’m not sure if this is just one I’m suffering with or if there are lots of other blushing brides-to-be out there coping with what I like to call ‘malting’, but it’s not pretty and it means frequent vacuuming of the house. Bluntly, my hair is falling out, and it’s awful.

The reason?

5. Stress

The big ‘S’ word. No real definition and hard to quantify as we all experience varying levels and symptoms, but it’s pretty overwhelming. I’ve been so easy to upset recently, so much more emotional, and for no real reason. I wouldn’t quite go as far to say bridezilla (because I’ve met some of those and they are of a different kind), but I’ve definitely been more sensitive, likely due to the heightened levels of Stress – capital S for emphasis.

 

So, I haven’t blogged in a long time but I’ve only just had some breathing space to start again. I’m getting married in 3 days’ time and, as far as I’m able to tell, everything is in place. Planning a wedding is like juggling 10 million balls for over a year, and then hoping that each and every one lands immaculately, all on the same day. It’s a wonder how we’ve done it, but somehow we are here with just a few days until ‘I do’. I’m so excited, and the feeling of being a Mrs to my Mr in a matter of days is all I have to focus on to remind myself that the stress and bad dreams and dark circles and weight loss and hair loss are worth it. Over and out as Miss, back as Mrs.

Why I couldn’t finish the marathon, and why I’m going to try again

Running alongside my fiancé, we spurred each other on from the start line, and made each other laugh along the way. We managed a respectable 2hrs 29mins at 13 miles (halfway point), and we were still going strong. The peaks and troughs of pain were bearable, and having each other to run with made the world of difference, not to mention the unbelievable crowd support lining the full marathon trail. At mile 15 I started feeling slightly unwell; having gone through a bitterly cold tunnel, I was suddenly unable to warm myself up, and felt unnaturally cold, despite being in the middle of running the longest distance of my life.

But with sheer determination and a spurring on from my running partner, we kept going, and I managed to walk-run-walk-run the next 3 miles, until I got to mile 18 and felt like I was going to collapse. The shivering was severe and my skin felt freezing. I stumbled over, held up by my partner, to a paramedic who introduced himself as Joe. I sat on the kerb, explaining that I felt unbearably cold. He told me that I didn’t look great (fantastic, thanks, is what I thought!) and that he would need to walk me over to the nearest St. John’s Ambulance station, to be checked over by the doctor. At this point I just wanted a fluffy jumper to wear and I was happy to be on my way to finish the course, but when he said I needed medical attention, I felt panicked and looked at my fiancé, who was ready to quit to stay with me. So I pulled myself together, put on a brave face, and told him to finish it for us. He was reluctant, but gave me a big cuddle and said he would see me at the finish line, with a medal for both of us.

So, I got myself up, off the kerb, and walked to the nearest ambulance station with Joe, the paramedic, which was only a few yards away but felt like another mile of the course. The doctor walked towards us and signalled to Joe, by putting his thumbs up and then his thumbs down, as if he was asking, is this good or bad? Joe put his thumbs down. Then I got scared, because I realised this might be something worse than just needing a jumper, and that I was on my own. They lay me down, horizontal, but with my legs slightly raised (not the most comfortable of positions when you’ve been pounding the ground for 18 miles and not had a chance to stretch), and they wrapped me in 3 foil blankets, and 2 fabric ones. They took my temperature, looked worried, then took my pulse, blood pressure,  checked my blood-sugar levels, and gave me a huge bottle of disgusting stuff to drink to try and get my electrolytes up. I asked them what was wrong and they said I was hypothermic, with a temperature of 33.5. I said that sounded pretty warm and they laughed at me – “Your body temperature should measure at least 36.5” the doctor said. 3 degrees doesn’t sound like much in the grand scheme of things, but when it’s your body, it feels horrendous. I couldn’t stop shivering, and all the while I was feeling more and more sad, disappointed, and guilty for not being out there on the course, running the last 8 miles.

I was in the St. John’s Ambulance for over 2-and-a-half hours, while everybody else ran, walked, staggered past, on their way to the finish line. I was feeling sorry for myself, so the ambulance staff offered me a blueberry muffin to cheer me up. It was gladly received, but I still just wanted to finish the race. I thought I was a failure, told myself I was letting everybody down, especially the children supported by Save the Children, who I was raising money for. And I felt awful that I’d promised my fiancé we would start and finish it together, knowing that I was now stuck in the ambulance, unable to be where I said I would be. But after being picked up, and seeing my fiancé again knowing that he’d made it over the finish line, I felt a whole lot better (and teary). A big thank you goes to the St. John’s Ambulance staff, for all their efforts to get me better, and make me laugh! The atmosphere in London is one-of-a-kind and the people are what make it.

After making it home, cold and sore, I googled ‘hypothermia’ and was horrified by the severity of it. It was only at that point that I felt I’d done the right thing in finding a paramedic, rather than carrying on, as I could have made it a lot worse. Everybody has been so unbelievably kind and supportive, and the messages have meant a lot to me. I’m determined to keep my promise and give it another go next year: for me, for you, for charity, and why not?

Today is the day after the day I managed 18 miles of the 26.2 marathon distance, and I have the aches and pains to prove that I did my very best.