Feel Good 101_The Outsiders' Guide to a Happier Life Page 9

  A quick example: when I was twelve, after years of constant arguing, my mum and dad separated. My mum moved out of the family home, leaving just my dad and me. Whilst I had always been closer to my dad (he stayed home to look after me as a baby and my mum returned to work), their separation affected my relationship with my mum to the point of it becoming near non-existent. When she would come to visit me, I would stay up in my room, listening to loud rock and metal to drown out her voice from downstairs. I was angry and hurt and felt as though she had chosen to leave me, giving up on her marriage without a thought for how I felt.

  Of course, that was never the case. Of course my mum had carefully considered my well-being every step of the way. Now, I have tried to write a more in-depth recollection of this time in my life, but I’m still finding it too difficult. My parents’ separation was far more complex than any twelve-year-old could (or should) understand, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that I knew exactly what was going on.

  I wish I could have seen the situation through the eyes of an adult, as I can now: my parents had been together for twenty years, money was tight, arguments were constant, their relationship had become increasingly strained and my mum simply couldn’t cope with it any more. My mum was approaching forty and took solace in going out at night with her workmates and wasn’t at home as often. She was at work five days a week in London, exhausted from the travelling and falling asleep on the sofa as soon as she got home, meaning my parents never had enough time to communicate, going to bed at different times and arguing every time I left the room. Both adults were unhappy, and separating was the best thing that could’ve happened for the both of them.

  Once you begin to appreciate that your parents are adults with worries, vices, stresses and responsibilities, you can better understand them, and wanting to help them out becomes automatic. My family dynamic is completely different in the present day, thankfully – my parents are practically best friends, living only a few minutes away from each other, and my relationship with my mum is a lot better. I also have two half-siblings that I absolutely dote on. If you had asked me at the age of twelve what I thought my family would look like now, that definitely wouldn’t be what I’d have imagined!

  I feel it necessary to state here that whilst I am happy to say, ‘Adults are people too! Talk to them!’, absolutely nothing excuses emotional or physical abuse. If you are suffering at the hands of someone you should be able to trust, you must tell someone. There are helplines at the back of this book with people on the other end of the line who are there to help you. Being ‘only human’ does not mean you should put up with any form of abuse.

  Also it was only after moving out on my own for the first time at the age of twenty-two that I realised how little I helped around the house! I apologise to my dad almost weekly for never having done the washing-up or tidied up after myself – when there is more than one person in the house, each of you should do your share! I know that after a long day of school or work, the last thing you want to do is start doing chores – but your parents will have had a busy day, too, and doing just one extra task can help improve your relationship with them over time. It shouldn’t be down to one person to do all of the cleaning. The same goes for money – when your parents say you can’t have something, it can be easy to think that they’re saying that to punish you, or because they’re being selfish. The truth is, budgeting can be a bitch, and there may be bills you can’t possibly account for. If one of your parents snaps at you for something seemingly small, they may be going through something unrelated that’s weighing on their mind. Sometimes, simply asking, ‘What’s wrong, Mum/Dad?’ can make the world of difference. Your parents can struggle, too – take it upon yourself to recognise when they need help and support, whether that’s around the house or simply a listening ear. Recognise when the last thing they need is you pestering them about something that, all things considered, isn’t that important, or you storming out of the room, shouting, ‘THAT’S SO UNFAIR! I HATE YOU!’ Sadly, this can be hard to do until you’re an adult yourself and living on your own, by which time it’s often too late.

  Just remember this – putting yourself in the shoes of others can do wonders for a relationship. Communication and empathy are two of the most important skills that you can use to understand what someone else is going through. The moment I began to treat my parents as my peers as well as respecting them as my elders, they also became my friends – long gone are the years of shouting at each other and storming out of rooms. If ten years ago, someone had told me that this would be our dynamic, I wouldn’t have believed them for a second.

  5

  Falling In Love

  (and falling back out)

  Knowing Your Rights

  There is no right way to start a chapter about love. Love is a clusterfuck of emotions: sometimes happiness, often pain. I say that not as a cynic, but as someone who has experienced it all – crushes, unrequited love, long-term relationships, painful break-ups, amicable break-ups that have hurt even more over time – you name it, I’ve been there. If the world gave out sewon patches for each emotionally-taxing experience related to love, my jacket would be completely covered in them. However, the point about love that I most want to communicate to you is that you have many rights that you should feel no shame in exercising:

  You have the right to feel comfortable and happy in every scenario, be that physically or emotionally.

  You have the right to say no to anything you do not feel comfortable with.

  You have the right to have your feelings heard and respected.

  You have the right to remain you, with every quirky personality trait, every strange hobby and any faith you may have.

  You have the right to be in a relationship without emotional manipulation or physical and/or sexual abuse.

  You have the right to walk away from any relationship that is unhealthy.

  You have the right not to feel stupid for having feelings for someone who does not reciprocate them.

  You have the right not to like someone back without being insulted, blackmailed or threatened.

  You have the right not to be taken advantage of by someone you have a crush on or are in love with.

  You have the right to be respected as a human being in a relationship.

  You have the right to grieve when a relationship ends.

  You have the right to love yourself at least as much as you love someone else, if not more.

  Feeling Crushed

  Firstly, my apologies to those who do not experience crushes. I am aware of how many times those who fall on the asexual spectrum must be told each and every day, ‘Perhaps you just haven’t found the right person yet! You will!’ and it is most certainly not my intention to make anyone feel excluded from this book. However – crushes are ruddy horrible, and whilst I’m sure the grass is always greener, I have wished many times throughout my life to be able to rip out the part of my brain responsible for them. They are often long, drawn-out and emotionally exhausting, and if I could go through the rest of my life never having another one, I’d be okay with it.

  Some emotions that I have experienced from having a crush:

  Like you’re floating on air. Suddenly you can imagine a plethora of scenarios involving you and your new interest, such as them confessing how they like you back, your first kiss, your first . . . well, you know. It depends on how vivid your imagination is. Mine is vivid.

  Like your heart is being torn in two when things don’t work out the way you’d planned. Heartbreak can genuinely give you physical feelings of illness. This happened to me a little while back. I’ll talk about that in a moment.

  Anger, if you fell for someone who is actually a horrible twit and realising you spent months of your life trying to justify to yourself that they were secretly lovable and changeable when you knew deep down that your efforts would be futile.

  Jealousy, of the person they’re dating or crushing on that isn’t you. By the way, as a
side-note, as tempting as it may be to act out of selfishness and try to ruin your crush’s current relationship, don’t do it. I’ll talk about that later, too.

  Overall, crushes can make you feel incredible. The human body completely transforms when it experiences feelings of love. Love can also lead you to feeling awful, make you act in a way that you never imagined you would and make you wish you’d never met that perfect, wonderful, absolutely diabolical human. Every feeling you experience whilst in love, whether positive or negative, is amplified to the extreme. And guess what? All those feelings are valid. Time for some stories.

  Technically, my first crush was Charlie Simpson, a member of the pop band Busted. I was twelve years old and madly, madly in love, with the band’s albums on repeat, posters of him all over my walls, and daydreams of our future together (once we met and fell in love at first sight, of course). Look, I’m not going to sit here and write that crushes on celebrities are stupid (I’ve got my list. Wrestlers, mostly), but this one was definitely born from the sudden emergence of hormones and not something I ever wish to bring up to Charlie, who is now someone I know quite well on a personal level. Fortunately, I don’t think this book is his kinda thing. Let’s just not tell him.

  Instead, let’s talk about my first actual crush on a human being that I knew in the ‘real world’. We’ll call him ‘Harry’. I was thirteen, and Harry was in my year at school, albeit not in any of my classes, and he was my absolute dream boy. Somehow, I managed to weasel my way into his friendship group, and we began hanging out at lunchtimes in the school library. The library was his gang’s usual hangout spot, and soon, every one of my lunchtimes was spent at the same table with the usual people – myself, Harry, and three or four of his friends. I still remember the day I got Harry’s phone number – it was such a victory to me, and yet I never actually texted him because I was too nervous! Unfortunately, it was no secret how much I liked Harry. I never have been – nor will I ever be – the queen of subtlety. When I have a crush on someone, they know. Any time Harry addressed me, I would blush a bright beetroot red, my words stumbling over one another as I tried to respond to his acknowledgement of my presence. My friends knew, his friends knew, and Harry definitely knew.

  Unfortunately for me, Harry didn’t like me back. This ‘unrequited love’ thing seems to be a running theme in my life, and sadly, is probably one of the only consistent things about me.

  When your crush doesn’t like you back, you go through a few trains of thought:

  Maybe if I keep hanging around with him, he’ll see that we’re perfect together!

  Perhaps if I do nice things for him, he’ll fall for me . . .

  You know what, today I’m just going to ignore him. Oh, who am I kidding . . .?

  Before I knew it, I found myself deep in the ‘friend zone’. We could have many discussions here about whether or not the ‘friend zone’ exists or whether it’s simply a social construct for someone acting bitter about being rejected, but for simplicity’s sake, you all know what the ‘friend zone’ is, and so that’s how I’m going to put it. I was madly ‘in love’ with Harry, would have done anything for him, and was waiting with bated breath each day for when he’d finally ask, ‘Emma . . . will you be my girlfriend?’

  I was going to leave this part out, because it involves some . . . dubious activity by two thirteen-year-olds, but I made a pledge to tell the whole truth in this book. There was one lunchtime that was different to all the others. I entered the school library, as per usual, and walked up the stairs to our table – as per usual – and sat down next to Harry. For a while, everything seemed normal – the same banter, the same packed lunches, the same feeling of my heart trying to thump its way out of my chest – until I felt a hand on my leg.

  Now, it’s safe to say that the thought of sex was quite a way off at this point – all the things that many teenagers with hormones do weren’t even on my radar – but Harry’s warm hand on my leg made me feel something that wasn’t just butterflies in my stomach. I was young (too young), I thought I was in love, and I thought this was Harry showing affection for me, so I let him continue. Now, I think it’s important to note that this was all above clothes – but it didn’t stop me from putting my hand on his leg in return. Slowly, underneath the table in the library, unbeknownst to our friends around us, our hands moved up each other’s legs towards . . . more private areas. Nothing really happened except our hands sort of . . . moving, I guess. Almost as soon as it started, it stopped. The lunch bell rang and Harry stood up, grabbing his bag (and probably tugging his shirt down a bit. I can’t remember). At the time, I felt overjoyed. Did this mean Harry liked me? That he was attracted to me?!

  Thankfully (although I wasn’t saying so at the time), it never happened again. It’s only really as I’m writing this that I realise how angry I still am at Harry for doing what he did. I have no doubt that in the decade that has passed, he has grown to be a kind, respectful person towards women, but before this incident, I had never linked my feelings for someone to doing things of a sexual nature. After that experience, at the age of thirteen, I did. I’m not sure it’s fair to blame him retroactively, but knowing that he was aware of how I felt and actively chose to do what he did that lunchtime makes me want to reiterate one of the points I made earlier: You have the right not to be taken advantage of by someone you have a crush on or are in love with.

  I’ll spare you the rest – the perfect, beautiful relationship between us that I’d spent countless nights imagining never blossomed. Harry got a girlfriend, who I hated simply because she had what I wanted (which is no reason to hate someone, by the way – don’t blame someone for making your crush happy). Eventually, my feelings for Harry faded, and we lost contact after we left school – that is, until at the age of twenty-three I bumped into him in London where he was working. I don’t personally believe in coincidence, and to me this ‘chance meeting’ was destined to happen. I was supposed to see him there, equipped with far more confidence than I’d had ten years earlier (I was hotter, too), and get that little bit of closure on the time I’d spent pining for him. We spoke for a while, and I walked away graciously with my head held high. It wasn’t a case of feeling smug – he was probably an entirely different person to the one I fell for – but more a way of telling myself: You are not the weak person you once were.

  I really hate it when people older than me say, ‘When I was your age . . .’ so please don’t think I’m trying to be ‘that guy’, but when you’re a teenager, with hormones raging (wow, I sound forty), crushes can be torture if they’re not reciprocated, especially if you’re a bit of a deep-feeling being like myself. I spent many hours of that time in my life daydreaming about Harry in my classes, thinking of what our first kiss would be like, immaturely wishing he’d break up with his oh-so-perfect girlfriend when he realised how much better I was . . . it was a cycle of getting my hopes up and then having them dashed, multiple times a day. In the end, I was practically torturing myself. It’s completely normal (as is not having crushes at all, by the way! Asexuality is a hundred per cent valid, obviously) to go through the motions of getting addicted to the butterflies, even if it leads you to ask what you need to change about yourself – but my advice would be if you know someone you like doesn’t like you back, try your hardest to walk away. If they’re your friend, and you don’t want to ruin that friendship, perhaps try to create a little distance until your feelings have faded – but make sure that you’re staying in contact with them for the right reasons. I know it’s hard. If the person you’re madly in love with is taken, or simply isn’t interested, respect that. Do not think that simply doing nice things (or favours of an . . . adult nature) will change your situation – and do not try to break up a relationship for your own selfish gain. Time for the second story, then . . .

  Fast forward a few years. I’m now sixteen years old, fresh into college and fresh out of my first ‘real’ relationship that had lasted almost a year, suddenly surrounded by hu
ndreds of new faces. Basically, I’m on the rebound. I’m hurt, I’m looking for comfort. Word to the wise – if you have a broken heart, don’t immediately look for relief in someone else. Take time out to heal, love yourself and accept that you cannot love someone fully until you have processed that break-up. Being single is not the end of the world.

  As well as studying English, maths and politics, I also chose to study ICT (computing, for those who don’t call it that) and it was here that I met a boy called . . . let’s go with ‘Arnold’. Arnold was a bassist in a band, shy and sweet, with beautiful eyes and a smile that could melt your heart. He was assigned the seat next to mine, and over the next few weeks, we got talking. I began to realise that Arnold was cute as heck, and I was pretty sure he liked me back. Sweet!

  Except Arnold had a girlfriend.

  I’m sure you can predict where this is going. I was sixteen, and at that time in my life, I wasn’t mature enough to see the bigger picture and empathise with others very well – I wanted Arnie all to myself. Arnold was madly in love with a girl called ‘Beatrice’ who he had been seeing for about two years, but he was easily swayed. I think it goes without saying, but looking back at it now, I obviously regret this entire situation. Sixteen-year-old Emma does not reflect twenty-five-year-old Emma, and I’m sure thirty-four-year-old me will think I’m an idiot for the things I do now, too.

  Eventually, after several weeks of getting to know each other, many heart-eye glances exchanged and texts flying back and forth, Arnold and I agreed to hang out one weekend. We went to the annual festival in my home town, and ended up holding hands and eventually shared a kiss. As selfish as I was, and as fast as my heart was pounding, I remember the immediate guilt I felt for Beatrice, who was probably sitting at home miles away and had no idea what had just happened. I suddenly felt awful. Beatrice went to the same college as Arnold and I, and although I didn’t know her all that well, the sudden realisation of how much this was going to hurt her sank in. To Arnold’s credit, he told her straight away – and sadly, it led to them breaking up. Suddenly, my feelings of happiness evaporated and were replaced by the realisation that I was the reason Beatrice was now going through something so awful, feeling betrayed and abandoned so cruelly. Yes, Arnold most certainly played his part – ‘it takes two to tango’, as they say – but I knew I had to accept my share of the responsibility. Arnold and I ended up trying to date, but the guilt we both felt for the way that we had got together took its toll, and we only lasted a couple of weeks. A two-year relationship, ruined through fleeting feelings of lust – we were both to blame, and we knew it.