Exams: Something's not right.

I'm back, and I have something to moan about.

I am currently suffering from a rather nasty affliction which has been plaguing me day and night for many months now. It seems to be something of an epidemic, as I've heard of many a case among my fellow sixth formers, as well as GCSE and degree students. It's called revision.

I've been lucky enough to be granted study leave by my college, which I'm very aware many schools and colleges are no longer entitled to. I'm currently enduring day five of official study leave and a few things are starting to make me think that there's something wrong with this system. I tweeted earlier about the way that some revision days are frustrating and unproductive, and how others are maddening, upsetting and helplessness (or something along those lines) and as is probably obvious, today is one of the latter. Today I feel sick for worry, I feel achey from sitting in one place for so long, I feel lonely because I can't talk to anybody, I feel locked-in because I know I don't have enough time before the exam to do anything I enjoy, and I feel guilty for every minute I stop revising. (and I feel a little bit silly because I'm very aware of the irony that right now I'm writing a blog post when I should be working)

Last year, I was frequently ill between November and June because of prolonged stress due to exams, and I'm not alone in any of these things, because this is normality from the age of 16 and presumably until leaving education. There has to be something wrong with that.

Reading all of everything I've just written, the obvious response is "get over it". It's only a couple of months, and after all, there are lots of ways round all of those problems. Revision breaks, evenings with friends, better revision set up, etc etc. But talk to an actual A level student, because from where I'm standing, that doesn't seem that easy. Young people are NOT the lazy, incompetent beings we are so often made out to be, but they are not superheros. If there is no balance of education vs "doing life" vs earning money that won't end up with us being deemed as lazy or under-experienced or scroungers then we don't know where to stand.

Why are the lives of young people shut down? Why, during our teenage years, when we should be learning about life and getting out and getting experience and doing things more than ever, are we chained to desks? Why have I been held back from so many awesome volunteering and work experience opportunities because I know I can't be away from a desk for too long? Why, when we are so fortunate to have an education system which is free and enriching and life-enhancing, are we then limited because we don't have the time, or the energy?

I don't want to quote statistics on alcohol and drug abuse, or depression, or anxiety disorders, and blame them on exams because honestly I have no idea about the true effects of one on the other - but surely it's fairly obvious that forcing young people into a period of chronic stress (and, may I add, offer very little specific support) is not going to work in their favour.

I know many a hard-working, clever student who does everything to get good grades, and despite real intelligence and admirable diligence, does not fit within the borders of this system. To be judged solely on memorisation of names and dates and statistics instead of comprehensive understanding and end up with a label stuck on our record for the rest of our lives because the academic life didn't suit our learning style isn't right. I don't know if classroom based assessment is the way forward, but I know something needs to change. I don't know the solution, but I know that something's not right.

Those are my heavily thoughts and they're bound to change in bits and pieces because right now I'm at the centre of it and looking at it objectively is just impossible. I'm posting this as a reflection of my current experiences and those which I've seen in others over the past few years - because isn't it true that just sometimes, a subjective insight is the realest way to see the heart of the problem?

Thoughts welcomed.

Stress

I want to talk about stress.

Stress is one of those unavoidable human flaws, that, at some point, we all feel. There are some things we can do to try to prevent and lift stress, but remaining 100% stress free is just something as humans we can’t do.

I recognise that there are some people in life that are generally more resistant to stress, and some who are better at dealing with it. Psychology might identify these people as having a “type B” personality – such laid-back individuals are usually characterised by their patience and generally relaxed attitude to life.

It’s quite safe to say that I do not fall into this category.

Instead, I am one of those who seems to be permanently wired, for goodness knows what reason. I am easily emotionally excitable, meaning I’m equally (and extremely) susceptible to hyperactivity and excessive panic. My perpetual frenzy probably drives my friends mental, but it’s very much a part of who I am, and I can only hope that they’ve learnt to love it – or at least accept it!

But acceptance is one thing. Living it out (or putting up with me!) is quite another. While there are aspects of my own personality that I’ve come to love over the years, being the stresshead that I am causes a multitude of problems. Not only am I susceptible to stress but also I am terrible at dealing with it, finding it often makes me feel/be sick, causes me physical pain (usually in the form of headaches and stomach aches) and can make me feel overloaded or even depressed.

I’m writing this blog post because I know I’m not the only one – far from it. I don’t know the statistics but I’m well aware that there is a huge proportion of A level students (and university students and GCSE students and mothers and fathers and grandparents and workers and so many others) across the country suffering from stress. Severe or otherwise, on a daily basis or otherwise, stress is a painful and damaging thing, and that’s something I completely appreciate.

Often, if you complain to someone about stress, you’ll hear this:

“Well, a little bit of stress is a good thing, right?”

To an extent, they are right. I’m referring again to my limited AS level psychology knowledge when I say that studies by psychologists have found positive effects of experiencing moderate levels of anxiety. A small amount of stress (due to release of chemicals like adrenaline and noradrenaline in the brain) can make us feel more alert, and act motivationally to help us get things done, which is the reason some people really do work their best under pressure.

But I’m not talking about this sort of “stress”, because really, when we talk about being stressed, that’s not what we’re talking about. The knowledge somewhere in the back of your mind that you need to get something done is different to the huge weight in your consciousness which not only reminds you how “badly” you’re doing, but prevents you from improving your situation.

There are very few examples of physiological illnesses in which the body turns on itself and increases its own problem. Sepsis is the sole illness I know of which does this. It’s a terrible disease which causes the body to attack itself. Again, I don’t know the statistics, but I do know that sepsis accounted for an almost unbelievable proportion of the deaths recorded during both the first and second world war.

Within psychological illnesses, however, the mind seems to be constantly out to get itself. Most psychological and emotional disorders are characterised by vicious cycles, and I think everyone who has ever experienced stress (so, everyone) can testify that stress is very much a problem which very much goes round in circles: if you’re stressed because you’re behind on your workload, you find yourself in no fit state to work, your workload gets bigger, your stress increases. You can’t sleep, you’re in no fit state to work, your workload gets bigger and your stress increases. The cycle continues.

Obviously, I’ve said everyone has suffered from stress and we’re not all walking round like zombies, nor have we all died of cardiac arrests, so the cycle must be breakable, which brings me to the point of my very long post – how do we break that cycle?

Here is a list of nuggets of wisdom and various tips and tricks, relevant for varying levels of stress, I’ve learnt from experience and wonderful people over the years, geared towards workload-related stress but hopefully applicable to all kinds of stress!

1. Just stop. When everything is screaming at you that you’ve got a million things to do and that taking a break will be the absolute death of you, prove yourself wrong. Taking a break will not be the death of you. By “a break”, I do not mean stop for 5 minutes and take an ibuprofen for the raging headache, then get moving again, I mean truly stop.
2. Make a list. This helps for some people, and not for others. Lists of things to do may look too scary and freak you right out – or alternatively, they can help you to prioritise and put a structure in your head of how you’re going to get everything done.
3. Have a cup of tea. Maybe you’re not a tea fan, in which case don’t have a cup of tea. I’m just a massive tea-drinker so I reckon this is important.
4. Call your friend. I don’t know if you have that particular wonderful friend who you always run to when you’re panicking. If you don’t, figure out who that person is. This friend is willing to help you and would never pile on any extra stress. Having a friend there to help you with step 2 is really helpful, as an outsider is usually more likely to be able to help you decipher what’s important.
5. Allow yourself to sleep. Sleep shouldn’t be sacrificed for anything that doesn’t make you happy. Yes, that means that while staying up until 3am because you were having an awesome DMC with a friend or because you went to an amazing party is ok, but staying up to write an English Lit essay because you had loads of homework that night and couldn’t fit it in is not. Sleep is important, and missing it for something that will only make you miserable is a no-no.
6. Prioritise your own emotional health. Your mental and emotional health comes before almost all else. Including an A* grades and your teachers’ insistence that the essay is due on Monday. You are number one. Look after yourself and your health and you’ll do better in the end.
7. Exercise. If you’re like me, you make a bit of a face when you think about going into the outdoors and being active, but I can’t count the amount of times that I’ve been stressed out and have cycled round the block for 20 minutes and felt ten times better.
8. Keep doing the things you like to do. Over my AS study leave period, I stopped doing so many things that I love doing – reading, sewing, baking, ice-skating, writing, playing squash, arts and crafts, playing my clarinet. This was silly, as these are all things that can act as a great outlet for anxiety, and will probably increase your productivity when you get back to work.
9. Everything you do is a bonus. This is just a wonderful bit of wisdom from a wonderful friend (who just so happens to be my amazing “number 4” friend). When I’m out of my depth in work, this friend always tells me not to focus on what I’ve failed to do – “What you haven’t done means nothing. Everything you have done is a bonus”. I hope he doesn’t mind me sharing this with you because it’s just such a wonderful perspective that has so helped me in times where I’ve felt like I’m drowning in work!

I’m aware this post has been very long so thank you so much for taking the time to read it and I hope some of my comments can be applied to life and provide something of a help!

For the Christians out there, I’m adding a Christian-related extension to this advice onto my other blog, footstepsandforgetmenots.blogspot.com about God and stress so please do check that out when it’s up.

Love and peace

(Yes, peace. Like, not stress),

Lizzie xxx

O Dewy Youth (Part One: What Makes Me The Same)

My blog posts have had a focus not only in this blog, but also in my old blog, Little Rays Of Hope, on being my own person. I've talked a lot about refusing to conform to the norms and  being different if you feel like being different.

And I totally stand by all that. I am completely FOR individuality and being who you want to be, of daring not to care, daring to be whatever takes your fancy.

But I have not, and do not deny that I am still a teenage girl.

At times, I can be a very typical one, too. I'm dramatic and hormonal. I suffer ridiculous mood swings. I cry when I'm angry. I cry when I'm hurt. I cry when I'm tired, stressed, hungry, when my pen runs out. I cry when people are nice to me and I cry when I'm betrayed. I cry when I'm happy. I get grumpy. I waste hours of my life reading empty-headed magazines and watching equally empty-headed television programmes.

I wear shoes that hurt my feet. I eat too much chocolate. I wear clothes that look terrible on me. I have regrets, from wishing I hadn't spent that 65p on a packet of Skittles to yearning to have time back to prevent a broken heart.

I rebel against things people in authority tell me to do because at my age, that's what I'm programmed to do. If it's petty, I'll go out of my way to disobey. But I'll be subtle. I'll be sneaky. You'll never even know.

I gossip. I'm cruel.  I do things wrong, I look back at night and I hate myself for it.

Then I wake up the next morning, and somehow, I end up doing it all over again.

I know I'm not alone in any of those things. I know that there are many teenage girls that feel exactly the same about all that I've just said. My only hope is that they also feel the same way about what I'm about to say.

I love my life.

I'm allowed to make mistakes, because I'm growing up. And even when I'm 80, I'll still be allowed. Because I'm still growing up. That's what life is, don't you know? A perpetual learning curve. We're all just growing up.

The tears are superficial. That vicious cycle that so many girls my age feel stuck in? It doesn't define us. There are other things that make us teenage girls.

Like the way I fall in love with that boy in the library who smiled at me. Little does he know that in that moment, I'm making plans. He's my present and my future and I'm in love.
 I'll never see him again, and I'll forget him again within a few minutes, but in those moments, my heart will skip and my teenage girl head will dream.

I can stay up until three in the morning talking about everything and nothing and loving it. I can talk on the phone for hours. I can be up all night dreaming about something, or someone.

I dream of kissing in the rain. It's the ultimate, stereotypical, delightfully reckless endeavour. It's ridiculous. Us Brits spend half our time avoiding the rain, yet something about kissing in the rain grips so many teenage girls worldwide.

I think it's the recklessness we love most. Maybe we're subconsciously very aware of the fact that growing up might mean settling down. So we live with this permanent adrenaline rush.

And that's why I think my generation should love being the age we are now. We're dysfunctional in our own crazy, wonderful way. We hurt ourselves like anything. Most of the time we're doing stupid things and making ridiculous mistakes. 

But it works. We're loving, we're living and we're learning and I couldn't ask for anything more.

#YOLO: the beauty of the Internet's most annoying trend.

In 2012, YOLO has swept all of our Twitter/Facebook/Tumblr/Reddit accounts and frustrated the wits out of the majority of us, because it is indeed incredibly annoying. And often used in infuriatingly inappropriate ways.

It's been said that YOLO is carpe diem for stupid people. Seeing that on the Internet made me giggle, because in essence, it is true. Carpe diem (which means 'seize the day') has the same sentiment as YOLO.

Behind the 13 year old girls and those poser-ish teenage boys you can subscribe to on Facebook, YOLO has what I think is a really lovely sentiment. And being able to embrace the fact that "you only live once" is a true skill: one I wish I had more of.

There are things in life that we all put off because we worry about the small things: what a certain person person will think of us.

Right now, like so many girls my age across the world, there's a guy I really like. We don't know each other as well as I'd like, and I'd love to do something about that. I could ask him to see a film. I could see if he wants to grab a coffee sometime. I could just start chatting. I could come right out and tell him how I feel.

But I won't. I'll sit here in my bedroom. I'll think about whether he'll ever notice me. I'll contemplate messaging him but always know that I won't do it. I'll be here, wishing that he'd pop up on my iPod screen, just saying hi. Or maybe a proclamation of love. (Just kidding).

So, why is it I'm so scared of "Want to get coffee sometime?"? It's just 5 little words. I don't even need to say it to his face - that's the joy of modern technology. I've got a portable Internet device perpetually in my pocket: I don't need to leave the room to get a message to him.

No, it's scary because I don't want to be rejected. I'd get over it, its not the worse thing that could happen. It wouldn't have massive repercussions if I was: he's a nice guy, it's not like everyone would find out. It wouldn't be too awkward: just a few minutes worth of blushing which I'd have forgotten about within a couple of months.

Yet these small knocks to my pride are enough to stop me giving myself the potential to get what I want.

If I could accept that I only live once, if I seized the day, maybe things would be different. There are people who do seize each day - know the type? They're always very interesting people with very interesting stories an a few scars. And they're the happiest people around.

I wish I was one of those people. Right now, I lack that confidence, but one day, I'd love to live that life. The new year is just 23.5 hours away as I write this - maybe that will be my resolution...!

So, I am, of course, challenging you to take YOLO/carpe diem into your hearts: do something a little by scary because you know, deep down, it's what your heart wants.

Let me know what happens!

The Kissing Convention

For me, texting is a part of my daily life. I'm not the kind of person so attached to their phone they freak out if it's not in their pocket, but my mobile is an important resource in my life: if anything in my usual daily schedule falls out of place, like my train is late, or I'm feeling sick and need to leave school early, if my friends aren't in our usual spot in the cafe, I can text my mum/dad/brother/friend accordingly and let them know what's happening.

Equally, I value my phone as a device to spread a little sunshine: I appreciate how much a sweet text can change my mood, so sending something nice to someone from time to time is something I try to make a habit of.

I send between two and twenty texts most days. Despite the fact I don't think I could ever use up my monthly text limit (5000 texts!), I still reckon that's quite a few.

Yet everytime I'm about to send a text - no matter who I'm sending it to - I hesitate, because I just can't get my head around the kissing convention.

How many "xs" should I put? What will they think if I put an "x"? Are three "xs" too many?

Sometimes I forget about the kissing thing altogether and then worry - will they be offended I didn't put an "x"?

My problem I'm blogging about today is not the idea of putting kisses at the end of texts, emails, letters etc. I'll leave that for another time. I have a problem with putting 18 kisses for every IM message you send, but otherwise, textual kisses are a sweet sign off to a text to someone you love: friends, love interest, family, whoever.

Anyway, no, I'm blogging about the ambiguity over what kisses MEAN. There is so much speculation by teenage girls as to whether that kiss means he wants to go out with her or whether he does that to everyone and it means nothing. And if your boyfriend doesn't put a kiss in that message, does that mean he's gone off you?

I hate the idea of people looking at texts from me and thinking that I'm "into them" or have "gone off them" because of whether I happened to tap an arguably meaningless letter of the alphabet into the end of my message.

Because I don't think a huge amount about the kisses I do or do not give. Usually, I'll mirror what you're doing. I'm not trying to hint that I like you, I'm not trying to "play it cool" by not sending you kisses, and I'm not annoyed by you if I don't.

Sure, there are correlations. If I don't like you, I'm not going to give you 3 kisses. But if I don't put any, it doesn't mean I don't like you. It's probably more likely to mean I feel easy texting you and I just want to talk.

Also, kisses from me aren't anything romantic. I put kisses on most of my friends text, but if I'm romantically involved with you, chances are I won't very often because we text a lot and it seems a waste of time. And if I am into you, you're not going to figure it out by the number of kisses. I'm not that readable, or robotic. There's no Lizzie formula. Que sera sera and all that.

Really, the kissing thing is a very teenage girl thing. I'm not saying others don't do it - they do - but those dedicated to the kissing convention are predominantly my species: the adolescent female.

To conclude: the kissing convention RULES.

1) Don't follow any rules.

2) Your texts, your life.

3) Don't get offended or upset or worried when people don't put the number of kisses you expected. Life's too short and chances are they forgot,

4) Realise that other people's rules aren't the same as yours.

5) Don't read into the number of kisses. Ever.

Love to all!

Lizzie xxx

(don't read into it. I know you're thinking about it)

Debate at the stone table

I'm not one for social convention.

I don't really follow it. I'm polite, but I'm not up to date in latest social etiquette trends, and if I don't agree with a certain convention, I refuse to fall into line.

In August, I had lunch in a coffee shop with a male friend. I was surprised when he insisted on paying for what was supposed to be my purchase. He took it from my hands and wouldn't hear of it that I paid myself. I offered to pay but didn't kick up a fuss, I gave in almost immediately.

It took me a few days to look back and consider my actions. And when I did, I seriously regretted not putting up a fight. I sat down with a notepad and Biro to put my opinion together, and here's what I came up with.

"The notion that when out to eat with a member of the opposite sex, the male of the pair is obliged to pay for what the female desires as well as his own purchase - strikes me as truly medieval. In this modern day and age, post the Equal Pay Act, post feminism, post women's rights, and in spite of the many laws prohibiting unequal treatment of men and women, so many people see this as the "done thing" - merely British etiquette, a custom we are supposed to follow."

It being an issue I had become so fired up about, I got in touch with my most opinionated friend to find out what he thought of such a custom. He told me quite undoubtedly that absolutely, the convention is appropriate, and that the male should always pay.

In Costa a few weeks later with a girlfriend, I once again got my notepad out to take down her opinion.

"Megan feels the situation is conditional. She says that it really depends on the 'format' of the meeting. A traditional dinner date is one that should be paid for by the male if he offers. The custom does not apply if the relationship between the couple is non-romantic. A lunch date is the financial responsibility of both parties, but the male should pay for cinema tickets if he invites the female on the date."

For me, Megan's view sums it up - it's complicated, ambiguous and no one's entirely sure what's right or wrong.

Some say that you might damage a guy's pride by not letting him pay - that it's part of his alpha male status, and stripping him of it is immoral. I argue that what about my pride? Does it not matter that I don't want to feel incompetent, unable to pay for myself?

I'm no female supremacist. I'm not a radical feminist. I appreciate that times have hugely changed, but I still believe equality should be fought for on either side it is needed. If that makes me a feminist, I'm a feminist. I believe in equality. By that I don't mean women and men should be treated exactly the same and have exactly the same societal roles, because we are different - physically, mentally, emotionally. However, there's a line where "different roles" becomes sexism, and for me, such a social contract borders on sexist.

I'd love to end this post with a philosophical thought and a bang, but there's not much I can say.

Instead, I want the opinion of anyone and everyone who might be reading this. Let me know, by comment, email, Facebook, Twitter (@pocketsizegeek), telepathy, whatever, I'm interested in your opinions, and how you've acted in these situations in the past.

Let me know.

My name is Lizzie, and I wear big knickers.

A few months ago, I found a picture I had drawn years ago. I'm guessing I was about 9 or 10 years old, at which time I think I saw myself as rather a fashion feature writer and enjoyed drawing pictures of models wearing sparkly halterneck minidresses, stillettos, glossy hairstyles and flawless makeup, then writing descriptions about the model and their get up, just like a lady in a proper ladies magazine would. Or at least, how I thought they might.

This particular picture was of a woman with a (weirdly) skinny neck, big pink (extra shiny) lips and a mane of long wavy (yellow) hair. In the description, I had written "Veronica is perfect because she is thin and has long golden hair, sapphire blue eyes and always looks perfect".

How incredibly depressing! That at the age of no more than ten years old, that was what I perceived as perfect. Especially taking into consideration that while "perfect" Veronica had her long skinny legs, beautiful long blonde hair and blue eyes, I was short and stubby with straggly brown hair and eyes that couldn't ever decide whether to be the colour of pondwater or sludge. I must have been far from perfect, by my own standards.

Me at 10. Hardly Veronica...

Fortunately, I do hold myself in higher esteem nowadays. I grew up and learnt beauty is just a concept/in the eye of the beholder/comes from within blah blah blah and, apparently, I stopped believing that to find perfection I must first look to the categoric opposite of myself. I know that my ideas of beauty would have derived from my socialisation by media, classmates and no doubt Disney movies, thus learning by the age of 10 the concept of attractiveness and sexuality.

Now, I don't want to go on about the "evil" media and how it's brainwashing us all, but we really do grow up learning, and thenceforth doing, some ridiculous things.

 For example, false eyelashes - whose genius idea was it to use a strong adhesive on the most sensitive part of the face in order to give the illusion of having moths attacking your eyeballs? WHY?! Oh, sorry, that's right. All in the name of sexy.

 Uncomfortable clothing. Tight leather trousers. Corsets. Strapless dresses (constant hitching up at parties and ceaseless fear it's going to fall down and you're going to reveal all). Leg suffocating skinny jeans, pencil skirts, strappy high heels (oh the pain), leather trousers, thongs...

Well. I'm going to make a stand. I refuse to put myself through discomfort in the name of sexy.

My name is Lizzie and I wear big knickers.

I don't buy them from La Senza. Or Ann Summers, or Triumph or any other sexy underwear shop. I bought them from good old M&S, who supply most of my underwear because it's comfortable.

My point in writing this post is not to say we should all wear sackcloth and be done with it. I love wearing nice clothes, I love feeling pretty, I love getting dressed up, I love clothes that flatter my figure, I love bright colours and pretty patterns. What can I say? At the end of the day the stereotype fits: I'm a girl.

No, I totally believe in wearing nice things, in going out and having an amazing time in your beautiful new shoes and your sparkly dress if you'd like to. What I don't believe in is wearing that all-revealing bodycon dress which you don't feel comfortable in at all, but you do it anyway because the magazines say that's high fashion and society dictates that's how you'll look hot.

At the moment I've been trying to care less about what people think. Non-school uniform days at school used to send me into hysterics, I was so stressed about what people would think or how I would look compared to my classmates. Moving to sixth form college and ditching school uniform meant I no longer had time for tears each time I had to dress myself in my own clothing. For a while I was meticulous about what I should or shouldn't wear. I'd always plan outfits in advance (because it took up to an hour and several changes of mind and there wasn't time in the morning). I realised something had to change when I was shopping one weekend. My criteria for new clothing was not "do I like this top/pair of jeans/dress (etc.)?", but "can I imagine [insert someone popular's name here] wearing this?".

And it wasn't just with clothing I was doing this - also a lot of my actions, words and decisions were being chosen on a similar basis, and that wasn't right. That wasn't OK. So I've made a decision to try harder for it not to bother me what people think of me. If someone's worth knowing, they're not going to care what I'm wearing, and they're going to respect me whatever I say.

I'm still guilty of caring about what other people think, of course I am - it's not much more than human instinct, but I've resolved not to buy clothes I don't like just because I think they're fashionable and I can imagine someone I perceive as "cool" wearing them and I'm so much happier for it. Living in a bubble separated from things you love because of what people think isn't what life is about. It's not long enough to pretend to be people we're not.

I want to broadcast to you all that I'm not ashamed of my big knickers. I'm not ashamed of my bright colours and my t-shirts and the fact that, yes, I wore this jumper yesterday. If you're reading this, I'm challenging you. Dare to stop caring. It's worth it.