Feel Good 101_The Outsiders' Guide to a Happier Life Read online

  The problem with staying friends with an ex is that, during your relationship, your brain will associate that person with happiness, and whenever you’re sad, your brain will crave any source of happiness hormones it remembers. Imagine feeling sad over a break-up and as though the only thing that can make the sadness go away is confiding in the person that you’re feeling sad over! In my situation, the first few months of trying to hang out with my ex as a friend confused my brain and tore my heart in two. Why aren’t we cuddling him? my brain would ask, though I knew I couldn’t if I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Seeing him sleeping in a separate bed in my hotel room at a YouTube convention was so odd, and so hard. However, our friend Father Time heals those wounds, too. Whilst I think I will always care for my ex and want the very best for him, I am finally able to hang out with him now without the longing to hold his hand. Your brain is in a constant state of rewiring itself, changing your thoughts and opinions on everyone and everything you know. Whether you remain friends with an ex or not, your brain has to go through a healing process – rebounding into a new relationship might create new links in your brain, but it won’t help break the old links any faster. With that all said, regardless of whether you remain amicable or not, here are a few things about breaking up:

  Give yourself time. You will cry. You will be upset. You will be angry. Those feelings will pass.

  Do not torture yourself with questions like: What if we hadn’t broken up? Would things have been different if I hadn’t done this or that? Unanswerable questions solve nothing, and only lead to feelings of guilt and self-doubt.

  You may feel as though you’ll never love again, but I promise you that you will. Your heart and mind will mend, and you will regain the ability to love and trust someone else. It may take weeks, months or even years. Do not pressure yourself or force yourself to get into anything you’re uncomfortable with. The right kind of love is worth waiting for.

  Don’t bitch about your ex. No, really, don’t. It does no good to sling mud. It may feel good in the short-term bitching to your friends about the bad things your ex would do, or insulting your ex’s new love interest, or talking trash about his or her body, but those things will inevitably get back to your ex, which will hurt them (do you really want that? Even if they hurt you first?), or could even lead to them retaliating with their own gossip and rumours. You want the hurt done and out of the way as fast as possible. Starting unnecessary fights will prolong the pain.

  If your ex asks if the two of you can get back together, think long and hard, and do not make any decisions in haste. Rationally remember why it ended in the first place, and ask yourself if you are truly compatible. Additionally, if you ask your ex if the two of you can get back together and they say no, respect that! You can’t make someone fall back in love with you. Do not make up lies or try to make them pity you and especially don’t emotionally blackmail them! Absolutely nobody likes being rejected, but always be kind and respectful, even if it ended badly.

  Don’t ask for gifts back. That’s shitty. Similarly, if you have something of theirs that wasn’t given to you as a gift, and they ask for it back, be decent and return it to them. Don’t keep it out of spite in order to cause them grief. If you keep communication open and honest, this exchange shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

  Change other aspects of your life now that your relationship status has changed! This is the perfect time to make new friends, take up new hobbies, go to the festival you always wanted to go to – new things will help to take your mind off the heartbreak. Our minds always focus on the saddest parts of our lives when we are idle, and if you suddenly find yourself alone a lot more often, you’ll end up stuck in a cycle of remorse as you compare your current state to the time when you felt happier.

  Forgive yourself. Whether your relationship ended due to something you did, or whether your ex did something to hurt you, or whether the relationship simply ran its course, it wasn’t meant to be at that moment in time. If things ended, you simply weren’t compatible. Of course, if you think you can work through your issues, and the relationship’s definitely right for both of you, then that’s great – but absolutely take the time to decide whether it’s for the best or whether you’re simply following an irrational, broken heart. Be kind to yourself. Allow yourself to feel upset. Don’t listen to the friends who tell you to ‘just get over it’. They are not you, and haven’t walked in your shoes. It is human to feel heartbroken. A heart that hurts is a heart that works.

  6

  Sex

  (or lack thereof)

  The Big ‘S’

  Man, I don’t know how to start this chapter. Isn’t it odd how we know that sex is taboo to discuss, and that we all so desperately want to break that taboo, but still find it difficult to talk about? Well, at least I do. I suppose I’ll start off by saying that if you’re reading this and you’re either my mother or my father, you can absolutely skip this chapter. I definitely won’t mind. You see, I’ve done things I’m not proud of and I’ve never told you, and I’m still not sure that I want you to find out. However, I promised myself that this book would tell the whole truth, or it wouldn’t exist at all, so here’s the first big confession . . .

  I started ‘fooling around’ when I was thirteen. After that under-table experience with ‘Harry’, the world of sex suddenly entered my life like a freight train. What was going on down there? Slowly, and then all at once, I transformed from an innocent girl who only cared about her favourite boy bands in a cute way into a teenager who was developing into more of an adult every day, surrounded by peers that were discovering sexuality in their own ways and bragging about sexual acts they were supposedly doing with other boys and girls. I was young, immature, and suddenly led by my hormones, despite having had the talk about periods with my mum only a couple of years earlier. After the feelings I had for Harry began to fade, a boy called ‘William’ asked me out. It was a typical school playground romance – I think his friend was the one who came up to me and asked if I wanted to ‘go out’ with him, and within a week, we were grossing out all of our friends by making out every lunchtime. We said ‘I love you’ after two days, and he proposed after a week. Yes, a week. Truly a love to last throughout the ages, ladies and gentlemen.

  After two weeks of constant hand-holding and . . . I don’t know, planning our future, I guess, I plucked up the courage to ask my dad if William could come back to our house after school. To my surprise, my dad agreed, probably thinking we’d just listen to CDs in my bedroom. However, I definitely had other plans. You see, by this point, I was surrounded by friends bragging about having sex, and I had a burning desire to be a part of the world they were talking about. I felt as though I was the only person in my year who wasn’t having sex, and I was going to change that.

  Now, fortunately – very fortunately – after suggesting to William in my bedroom that we do a lot more than make out, he completely shut down the idea, saying he wasn’t ready. Damn well bloody good for you, William, and thank you for doing that (it probably also had something to do with an ex-Army man who was very protective of his daughter sitting downstairs), because, looking back, I definitely wasn’t ready for sex either. However, after kissing for a while, we did end up doing some more . . . adult things. It wasn’t ‘all the way’, but it was pretty much everything else – until we heard footsteps. Very quickly, school trousers were being hoisted back up, and I literally leapt into my cupboard so that my dad wouldn’t see me getting dressed again. I’m making this sound quite funny, but at the time I felt nothing but dread as my dad opened my bedroom door to see a boy looking quite flustered and me behind my cupboard door trying to do my trousers back up. Instantly envisioning the (probably correct) situation, my dad stormed straight back out, slamming the door, and I truly wanted the ground to swallow me up. To this day, I have never felt more mortified. Ashamed and dreading the trouble I was clearly going to be in, I rushed to the bathroom and threw up. That, my friends, is the story
of my first sexual encounter. How romantic.

  After I sheepishly returned from walking William to the bus stop by my house, I fully expected my dad to explode at me in a full-blown rage. What I got was worse – a look of disappointment and total silence. I quickly ran back up to my bedroom and started crying. Was the rush to ‘get it over with’ and tell my peers that I was cool like them really worth it? It was then that I realised that I was completely out of my depth, and I hadn’t been emotionally ready or mature enough for what we’d done. After a few hours, I went downstairs – even being shouted at was better than being ignored. This time, my dad did something that still surprises me to this day when I think about it. He calmly sat me down and said, ‘Emma, boys your age are idiots. Tomorrow, everyone is going to know what you were doing. They’re going to think some horrible things about you now. Be prepared for that.’

  That was it. No name-calling or shaming, no yelling at me for being stupid – just a piece of advice from a clearly disappointed man. And do you know what? He was right. Everyone did find out the next day at school. ‘William’ had told a couple of friends, who had gone on to seemingly tell everyone and their dog. Only, what we’d done wasn’t met with praise or celebration from my friends like it was with his – everyone I spoke to thought it was gross. That was when I realised that all of the kids that were bragging about what they’d done with eighteen-year-olds were lying. Absolutely no one in my friend group had gone further than kissing, and suddenly I was the subject of every piece of graffiti in the bathroom stalls. I ended up breaking up with William a week later because of the teasing I would get in the corridors from people I didn’t even know. The entire school knew what I had done at the age of thirteen years old.

  Now, I’m not telling this story to say that ‘Doing things at thirteen makes you a slut! Being a slut is bad!!’ But this was definitely a case of me convincing myself that I was ready, I was in control, and I didn’t think about any potential consequences of doing something like that so young. There are a lot of things I’d do differently if I had the chance to start over, even if I do believe in things happening for a reason – for instance, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry a guy a week after ‘going out’ with him. I wouldn’t have believed my friends when they told their absurd stories. I wouldn’t have given in to peer pressure to start doing sexual things at thirteen. I also wouldn’t have lost my virginity at fifteen years old.

  Fast forward to 2007. I’m fifteen, and ‘going out’ with a guy in the year above me who I’d had a crush on for weeks, after shyly asking his friends if he liked me back. He had moved to the UK to study two years prior, had a permanent tan and beautiful blond curly locks, and I was head over heels. Let me set the scene. We’d been ‘going out’ for three months, we’d been on dates to the cinema every weekend, I’d met his mum, and he’d met my dad (no, my dad didn’t like him. My dad hasn’t liked any boyfriend I’ve had. If you pass that test, I’m marrying you). Everything was going great. He was the one. It was Good Friday, and I was back at his house after school. His mum was out, and we were on his bed.

  ‘So, do you wanna . . .?’ I asked, coming up for air from our make-out session. I’ll admit this wasn’t the first time I’d asked him if he was ready to go further. I will state here for those who are worried: I wasn’t pushy or persistent, and I was also sure he wouldn’t agree to anything that made him feel uncomfortable. He’d ‘done it’ once before, but he seemed really certain that we should wait for the right time. Only this time . . .

  ‘Okay . . . if you’re sure you want to.’

  I nodded, my heart suddenly pounding and stomach lurching with nerves. Am I ready? I mean, I can’t really back out now, I thought to myself. I do want to. I’m the one who keeps asking him. I’d look stupid if I changed my mind now.

  If you find yourself in a similar situation, and you have even the slightest shred of doubt in your mind about whether or not you’re ready: stop. Do not worry about ‘looking stupid’, and do not pressure yourself into doing anything you don’t want to. It is your body, and your choice.

  We got naked, my nerves making me feel sick as I got into position, and then . . .

  Ouch. Ow, ow ow ow. It’s so much more painful than I thought.

  A bit of slow moving, a bit of blood on his sheets, and it was done. I didn’t feel like a liberated sexual being. I didn’t feel as though I was in heaven. There was absolutely nothing romantic about my ‘first time’. Afterwards, my boyfriend seemed more concerned about the blood on his sheets and how he was going to explain it to his mum than about how I felt.

  Overall, my ‘first time’ was painful, unemotional, quick, and although we were safe and used protection, I spent the next couple of weeks panicking that I wouldn’t get my next period. If you truly feel ready, then it will not be as horrible as my experience. It may still be a little awkward, and it certainly won’t be a perfect experience, but it should not be unbearably painful, and you should feel at ease and reassured by your partner. Do not give in to pressure from your friends, or even from yourself. There is no rush to ‘get it out of the way’ – I have friends who didn’t lose their virginity until far into their twenties. It is not a race. You are ready when you are ready. Oh, and it should go without saying, but just to be crystal clear – make sure you are protected. Safe sex is the only way to avoid unwanted pregnancies and STIs, and if your partner is trying to convince you that ‘condoms are gross’ or anything similar – get the hell out of there. Don’t even look over your shoulder to say goodbye as you walk out of that door.

  I actually have a good way to gauge when you are at a stage of being emotionally mature enough to begin to think about doing things of a sexual nature, and that is: if you can sit on the edge of the bed and talk to your partner about STIs, periods and pregnancy, without either of you cringing or getting embarrassed. Also, if you feel as though your partner isn’t making you feel completely comfortable about being naked around them, then you are with the wrong partner. Your partner should cherish your body – it should be the most wonderful thing in the world to them. They should make you feel that way, even if you do not feel that way about yourself.

  Of course, this isn’t a concrete guide – you need to make sure you do not feel pressured and are a hundred per cent comfortable. However, if I’d followed this little rule I made for myself I would have lost my virginity at about twenty-two years old, with the first and only person I’ve ever been in love with. It would have been special, I would have felt completely ready, and it would’ve been a much nicer memory to have.

  Alas, I suppose it was meant to be this way for me – we live and learn from our mistakes. I hope my story has helped at least one of you reading this to realise that sex – whether it’s your first time, or your fiftieth time – should happen when you are ready, emotionally and physically. Don’t let anybody try to rush you into something that you know deep down you are not comfortable with. Speaking of which . . .

  Assault

  I’m sorry, I couldn’t sugarcoat the heading. I wouldn’t want to lessen the emotional damage that sexual assault can cause. Sexual assault, unfortunately, is tragically common, and can happen in many different ways, but no matter what level of ‘severity’ someone says you’ve experienced it at, it can destroy you mentally as much as it can physically, if not more.

  Essentially, to put it simply, sexual assault is any instance in which someone is trying to take control of your body in a sexual manner without your permission. That goes for someone slapping your arse in the street, somebody deliberately brushing against you on a packed train, someone you trust refusing to stop when you ask them to and pressuring you into continuing (which is legally considered as rape), or a complete stranger grabbing you and raping you. There are varying legal degrees of ‘severity’, but at the end of the day, sexual assault is inexcusable, and it is never, ever your fault. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, how far you’d been going with that person, how much you drank – sexual assault is
always the other party’s fault. I myself have experienced sexual assault, to the point where I was terrified for my body, and it’s a story I’ve never told.

  It dates back to when I was still living with my dad in my home town. One day I was with him in our local shop. When we got to the checkout, we were served by a boy I found incredibly cute – tall and chiselled (honestly, what more could I ask for?) and only a little older than me, with a great smile. I was twenty years old, and I’d just started making videos on YouTube. This wasn’t a case of me being ‘young and naive’, which is an excuse many use to justify assault. Assault can happen at any age, and at any time, even with people you trust.

  I told my dad that I found our cashier cute, and the next time my dad was served by him, bless his heart, he asked for the boy’s number for me! We started texting, and arranged to go on a date. Our ‘first date’ went pretty well, although I realised very early on that he was very hands-on. We went to a laser tag place in our town, before getting coffee. Every time he found me in the laser tag game, instead of shooting at me, he would pull me close to him, making out with me. I already knew in my mind that, as much as I fancied him, his level of affection was weirding me out – but not wanting to be ‘rude’ (facepalm) I went along with it.

  After our coffee (he left me alone to drink his latte, thankfully) we walked to the bus station so he could catch his bus, all with him wrapping his arms around me and making out. At this point, I was completely confused. I knew I liked him, but as I’d got older, that level of PDA made me feel uncomfortable. Looking back, it was obvious I should have told him to get lost, that he was making me feel weird, and walked away. However, even at twenty, I was scared of being seen as ‘frigid’ (which is a horrible fucking word, by the way), and I was also scared of him getting angry. I should have let this ‘first date’ be the end of it – but when he texted me that night asking if I wanted to hang out at his house at the weekend, I said yes.