Yesterday I was on the phone to my friend Katy about what we were wearing to our friend's Christmas party. She works as a fashion buyer, and is one of the best dressers I know, like significantly better than most celebrities with stylists, so she is a great person to go to for fashion advice. "I am wearing my new Topshop velvet jumpsuit, with my Christmas cardigan" I said confidently. There was a bit of an awkward pause on the line. "Ok," she said supportively, "you could do, just I don't know if people are doing the Christmas jumper thing, I think it is more of a nice trousers and nice top sort of occasion." Which made me think, when did it become the norm to only wear Christmas jumpers when everyone else is doing it too? Why can't we just wear our Christmas jumpers, with everything, everywhere, every day of December, because it is Christmas and it helps us feel all the magic and joy of the yuletide period? So I say move over Christmas jumper with jeans to Christmas jumper parties, here are 9 ways I have and will wear my Christmas jumper this Christmas season.
1. To a nice restaurant:
Pre the party, Will and I were grabbing dinner at one of our favourite steak restaurants - the Jones Family project. Bless him, he was actually very supportive about my decision to wear a Christmas cardigan to a place where they charge £26 for their cheapest steak with no sides, and everyone else is dressed impeccably. He completely genuinely remarked it was a great idea, when I tossed it on. But you know what, in my fashion credential-less opinion, it totally worked. I mean no one looked at me weirdly, and it made me feel super Christmassy, so that to me is working. I think the pros of having a Christmas cardigan is it is maybe easier to class it up than a full on Christmas jumper, I just picked mine up for a tenner at a vintage shop a couple of years ago and it still going strong.
This doesn't quite show the glory of this Topshop jumpsuit, but the camera was making it look weird in the crotch area, a standard jumpsuit problem... take a better look here. (At the jumpsuit, not my crotch, obviously). I am also wearing some Nine West court shoes I bought when I was 15, but have come back in, cosy'know, leopard print is a neutral.
2. Hungover:
And how I am wearing my Christmas cardigan today. Cos when you are feeling mopey from all the booze you drank the night before, it definitely perks you up when you look down or see your reflection in a mirror, and it distracts you from the massive bags under your eyes and your ridiculous hair. Also, I am double jumper-ing, which keeps you snug now it is getting nippy noodles, plus means you can peel off and then throw on layers when you are getting the hangover sweats and chills.
Hells yeah. If there was such a thing as a sexy Christmas jumper, surely it is this one from Toppers. Paired with these shorts as well you will feel fabulously Christmassy and yet like hot stuff. Although you may feel like actual hot and sweaty stuff, so maybe stick a little something underneath. I love this top from ASOS. I found it in LOOK magazine, but I can't find it anywhere on the website - but I am keeping an eye out in the new in section for it!
Of course this Friday 12th December it is Save the Children's Christmas jumper day, which raises funds for children all over the world by getting people here in the UK to work a Christmas jumper at work. However, I personally think you can get away with a Christmas jumper every day, no? I just dressed up an old M&S pencil skirt, and Zara shirt, and smartened things up by nipping it in with a waist belt. Tomorrow's outfit to get me out of my Monday morning blues sorted.
5. To a Christmas party:
Obvs yesterday I just wore my velvet jumpsuit, but next Christmas party I am desperate to bring out this tutu I bought last week in the ASOS Black Friday sale. I personally think you can totally casual up a tutu with a jumper, and I think with this adorable M&S jumper it would be perfect to a low key Christmas drinks do.
6. Sunday pub: I really love the idea of un-grannying a Christmas jumper with a leather skirt. This one is particularly ungrannyish because of all the zips. It is really similar to a baby blue Zara pleather skirt they had in in the summer, and I get so much wear out of that one, I think this River Island black one is defo worth the investment.
7. Just out and about: Ice skating, Christmas shopping, lazing on the sofa and attempting to get drunk on mulled wine, for me, my favourite way to wear a Christmas jumper is just with wooly tights, a neutral dress and my favourite boots.
8. On Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day: Because you have to wear a Christmas jumper every day of Christmas whether it is with your wonderful faux fur trimmed dress, or just with your turkey eating leggings on.
9. On Christmas Jumper day. And of course, as well as standing out from the crowd in your Christmas jumper, blend into a crowd too, and do something lovely together. Support Christmas jumper day this Friday, and raise funds for children all over the world that don't have all the opportunities, education and basic things like food, water toilets and a good chance of making it through childhood, which of course every one should. Find out more about how you can raise money by bringing out your Christmas jumper here.
I don't normally write fashion posts, but I am super hungover today, so this seemed like a good excuse to basically shop online and try on all my new favourite clothes.
There wasn't actually a weird picture of a Christmas tree on the Forza Win(ter) table, but it is December so I am decorating everything, including Loner. Lover. Friend. Cos y'know. CHRISTMAS.
So my last post was a little heavy, sorry. This post will be heavy in a different way. In a "I have eaten so much carby, gooey, cholestroly cheese and now I can barely move and feel so heavy" sort of way.
And I will again share details about myself, that will make Will yet again crease his nose up when he reads it, and ask whether that is just too much for the internet. But again, in a different way:
I took my sister to Forza Win(ter) for her birthday present, but Forza could seem like it should really sit in the "Lover" category, rather than the "Friend" one. The candlelight, the sharing platters, the fact that it is held in an old cash and carry in a slightly dodgy area of the already slightly dodgy Peckham, which means you might want male company walking you there from the station. It all says "date night". But there is one thing that really does not say date night and that my friend, is the cheese.
At Forza Win(ter) they serve a fondue, but this not the fondue you are used to, which is like 50% white wine, 50% cheese. This fondue is made purely of cheese, melted down with double cream. It means it is flipping delicious, a fabulous party in your mouth, but then alas, in your tummy. There is no way that after consuming this much cheese and cream you are going to want to go home and do anything but lie down and rub your bloated tummy, before passing out in a cheese coma. You certainly will not want anyone seeing your food baby stomach unless it is covered in a onesie or maybe a massive wooly jumper. In short, there will be no loving going on after a trip to Forza.
This sounds like I am giving Forza Win(ter) a negative review. I certainly am not. The cheese is amazing, and the accompaniments are incredible. Arancini risotto balls with melted cheese anyone? Ginger Pig Porchetta? Fabulous - it is all so good, I am not sure whether I should make it a winter tradition. I actually first went to Forza Win(ter) a few years ago when it is was held on a roof top in Bethnal Green. (I am yet to go to the one without the (ter) - I've never made it to Forza Win in the summer months, when they've specialised in pizza and Italian barbecue). Obvs, a roof top in the winter is pretty nippy noodles, even though we were under a fairly lit marquee, and there were patios heaters under the marquee too. Which actually seemed like a pretty significant fire hazard at the time. The cash and carry still felt a little fire hazard-ish (flames everywhere, and we were pretty packed in) but it was a damn sight warmer. Plus it had a vending machine with coffees and beers in, so that was fun.
So this little pumpkin stuffed with ginger pig herby amazing mince, looks d-sgusting, but is in-credible.
And for puds, this chocolatey orange mousse scrumminess.
Also, the crowded-ness and long tables which make you feel like you might not get out in a fire, also are what add the atmosphere to the experience. There is lot of feeling of camaraderie there, like you are all having to overcome some adversity together, when actually the only adversity you are facing is trying to eat so much cheese and cream. There is just one sitting per night too, and you have to be there at a certain time, so that adds to it feeling like you are just at one big cheese filled party too. At one point everyone in the place stood up to sing happy birthday to some man Paul, and cheersed their glasses. You don't get that in TGI Fridays.
So if you fancy some cheese this winter, how much will it cost? You buy tickets for Forza Win(ter) and pay upfront by going here, but then you can buy wine and wotnot on the night.
*big "can't believe I am actually posting this on the internet" breath*
I wanted to write a slightly different post today, partly because it might help me, but also because maybe it helps someone somewhere. I often google about this when I am in a panic, and I just want to read a message board or a blog or something that won't make me feel like the only person in the world who feels like this. But I never find one, people's problems are always much more serious. They worry about their boyfriend at a Christmas party because they have cheated on them 8 times, because they are an alcoholic, because they have a newborn baby and their husbands still don't come home until the next day. Maybe if there is someone else out there with this exact problem it will help them feel less alone, but to be honest sometimes I think sharing your specific panics and worries, helps anyone with any specific panic or worry. Since dipping my toe in bloggersphere a little bit for these past couple of months, blogs by wonderful, normal, funny, interesting fashionable women about their mental health quirks have really comforted me with mine. Blogs by everyone from unknown ones like Following the Orenda to bigger bloggers like Hannah Gale and Zoella, have just made me feel a tiny bit better about my anxiety that I guess I've been struggling with all my life, but has definitely worsened in my 20s. Reading Sprinkle of Glitter's "I hate new places" gave me the nudge I needed to write this. Hopefully it is cathartic. I don't hate new places, I love them, but I totally empathise with having a problem which seems so small and seems like something no one else has, and seems like it should be totally easy peasy to get over but just isn't. Having said that, a bit of me reads something like Sprinkle of Glitter's "I hate new places" and just thinks, "I don't understand, you won't die, stop thinking like that" but I know from experience that however unfounded your worry is, it can still be hard to stop having it.
If you've read to the bottom of my about page (well done for getting to the bottom of that mahusive essay btw) you'll know that all my life I've been a bit of a worrier. But when I was 23, my worrying spun out of control, I was constantly nervous, and always on the verge - if not having - a panic attack. It was mainly spurred on by people not being able to get in touch with people. I had to basically have regular updates from all my loved ones telling me they were alive, for me to be sure that they were. If they didn't reply to me for half an hour, I basically wrote them off as killed in some horrific accident. Even if it was 2pm on a Monday, and I'd heard from my boyfriend at 11am and knew he was just at work, if he didn't reply to my next message I'd assume he'd had a brain haemorrage at his desk, and have to go and cry for 10 mins in the work loos until I half pulled myself together, but even then I'd sit at my desk, my eyes welling up and not being able to do any constructive work until my boyfriend got out of the meeting he was in (as obvs he was in a meeting, not dead) and replied to me.
Something minutely scary happened one day, at the height of my anxiety, when I hadn't yet really started any therapy (I've never had anything long term, but I have had some sessions of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy - CBT - and hypnotherapy, which have helped a bit) and didn't have any methods to control my panic attacks and anxiety.
My boyfriend and I both had our office Christmas parties on the same night. I'd told my boyfriend he could stay at my flat, just a 15 minute walk from his work party rather than trekking back across London by taking a zillion night buses. My work party started at 5:30 on the dot in the work canteen, and there was a limited amount of cheap bottles of wine dotted around. Thus by 11pm I was blottoed and tucked up in bed with my Happy Meal. When we spoke then, my boyfriend was only just leaving work. A stock market had had some technical problem or something that was really really bad, so my boyfriend had to stay and fix it. I told him not to worry, I would go to sleep, but he could just call me when he got to mine. He told me he reckoned he'd only go for an hour or so. He'd be back in my bed between 12 and 1. At some point half way through my McChicken nuggets I predictably nodded off, and I woke up and my alarm was lit up: 2:58. Dread hit my stomach. What if my phone was on silent, and I just hadn't woken up? I scrambled around amongst the chips, and found my phone but nothing. No missed calls. No text messages. I called him. He didn't pick up. I called again. Nothing. And again. Nothing. And again and again and again and again, bawling down the phone to just his phone ringing and ringing. I rang my sister, living with my parents at the time. She woke up my parents. I cried down the phone and they tried to calm me down. Maybe he had just gone back to his own house and had fallen asleep in his own bed? Maybe he was still there, having a good time? I tried to calm myself, help them calm me down, tried to stop the heart thumping so much against my chest, my palms and feet going sweaty, me feeling sick, my mouth getting dry. Me being overwhelmed by the horrible deep down bad feeling I had all over. I wasn't worried he'd cheated on me, I think I could cope with that (I'd be mad and we'd probably break up, but I am not worried about it). I was worried he wasn't safe, that he would be gone forever, get killed or go missing.
I kept hanging up on my parents every 20 minutes to check whether he'd called me back. He hadn't. And then after the third hang up, a bit after 4am, I saw a little voicemail. "Babe...I love you, I am so tired, I wish I was in your bed..." he slurred "I got on one of those things sort of like a car and sort of like a train [a bus, as sober people would call it] and I don't know where I am". I called him, he was standing on the edge of a dual carriageway trying to get a taxi, but he was too far out for Addison Lee, and this was before the age of uber. He had decided to get the bus 3 stops, but fallen asleep and stayed on until the end of the line, ending up in Essex. Bloody Essex. In the end, he managed to get a taxi back, so it all turned out a-ok, and to be honest falling asleep on a night bus is pretty much a right of passage for a twenty something living in London. I often tell this little story to people at a party trick, as if its a joke to me, but actually it isn't, it has maybe slightly traumatised me, and I manipulate situations to ensure it doesn't happen again. Many of my friends have had similar, woken up and their boyfriend still isn't back and answering their phones situations, and they've had a panic at the time but long term they've just gotten over it. Forgotten about it. But my brain just won't. When I moved in with him, the night of the Christmas party was the thing I was most worried about. I still can't go to sleep when he goes for work drinks and I've had to create a survival plan, which basically involves me crying down the phone to my parents and going for runs in the middle of the night. The other night I even had a nightmare. A nightmare over a Christmas party, gees louise brain. I woke up at 4am and I thought it was 4:11 and he wasn't home and it was Thursday night, but it was Sunday night and I just turned over and there he was snoozing beside me. I genuinely half considered food poisoning myself, so he'd have to look after me. How silly is that? I'd prefer to be throwing my guts up with him, than for him to go to a party without me.
Despite this, I know if I woke up at 9am on Friday morning and he wasn't there, it is very unlikely that is because he is dead or even hurt. I also know he probably would be there. But I can't stop. For me the difference between someone who just has every day worries and someone who suffers from panic attacks, is the worrying about worrying. Sure the foundation of my worry is that I am scared about losing a loved one, but who isn't a little scared about that? And I know the chance of my boyfriend being murdered on the way home from his Christmas party is 0.000000000000001% or something. But I know the chance of my boyfriend coming home later than expected or being unreachable is more like 50%, when he is out and drunk. And that if this happens I will have a panic attack. And by worrying about having a panic attack, I basically start having a panic attack. Silly silly brain.
There are a zillion things I hate about my anxiety, and if you are reading this and you have panic attacks or anxiety, I am sure there are zillions of things you hate about yours too. I hate that being like this basically makes me a hypocrite, as I have no problem with myself going out and my boyfriend staying in, but I manipulate every situation to make sure that where he goes to get drunk, I go too. I hate that it is definitely the biggest burden on our relationship, and I am a burden on my family and loved ones as well as Will, that everyone waits for me to go back to normal but I just won't, however much money and time I sink into it. I hate that I am changing Will from what I loved about him - that he was neither clingy, or distant, but cared about me and also liked to go out and be one of the boys. I hate also that sometimes it changes me, stops me from being as independent or as fun or say yes to things, as I'm worried about worrying. I am probably not going to enjoy my Christmas parties on Thursday night, but will approach them like they are my last moments on death row, watching the clock waiting for the panic attack to happen, waiting for Will to not text me back, not come home.
But there are things that I can see that are positive in my anxiety. Not in a way that I want to keep it, but I really do feel that I'll be a better more rounded person in the long run. Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger ey? Trying to control my anxiety has helped me form good mental habits - like being mindful and being grateful. Sometimes when I am sitting on the tube, looking around at quite a few miserable, tired or bored faces I realise how happy I am - because I am aware that I'm not worried, it also makes me think of how many blessings I have, how comfy and warm I am, how healthy I'm feeling, that I am lucky to have my book on me, that I am lucky I can read books, that I am lucky I like reading books. And as many things I haven't done because I am anxious, there are things that I have done to help my anxiety too - new experiences - like writing this blog, that I'd probably never done if it wasn't something I thought would help me with my mental health in the long term. And finally it really shows you how amazing your boyfriend, family and friends are. Will has put up with this crap for 2 years now. He has offered to put a tracker on himself, he has got into a habit of texting me when he is coming home and telling me times he'll be back like he is my teenage son, and getting in touch when he is going to be even 10 minutes late. My Mum, Dad and sister have literally stayed up with me until 2am more times than I can count on one hand, sitting on the other side of facetime, making me feel less alone. Several of my friends have already asked if I have any plans for the night of Will's Christmas party, and whether I need them round for company, when they know full well their night might just be holding my hand whilst I cry and hyperventilate.
I am not a counsellor or a doctor, but if you are experiencing an anxiety, panic attacks, worry or even if you just feel a bit down sometimes or often, here are some things that have really helped me, which I would recommend.
1. Exercise - for me the best exercise is running, it clears my head like nothing else. On Thursday night I'll probably end up on a post party 10pm run (on busy streets, safety first. No point in replacing one irrational worry with another real one). It is no surprise that one of the first thing doctors tell people with anxiety and depression is to exercise - the endorphins help, its a distraction, and it is also impossible to cry and hyperventilate when you are panting anyway.
2. Get more sleep - being tired makes you feel crap, and it makes you more likely to have a panic attack and panic about having a panic attack.
3. Drink alcohol more sensibly - because with a hangover, it is the same situation as being tired but a zillion times worse. And secondly, sure if I get off my noggin on Thursday I might fall asleep and it might be fine, but drinking myself into a stupor to get rid of my inside pain is super super unhealthy for my liver as well as my mind.
4. Do less in more time - get up earlier in the mornings, give yourself more time to get from a to b, don't have plans every day of the week, or every night of the weekend. All that rushing I think is like a drip drip drip effect making you always a bit heightened and stressed which makes panic attacks more likely. My boyfriend creased his nose up when he saw I was sharing so much of my personal life on the internet, but then said "well anxiety is everywhere now though isn't it, its the thing of the moment". A bit dismissive maybe, but he sort of has a point. But it is not because anxiety is cool or something, but because we all spend so much time hooked to our smart phones not having a moment of downtime. Waiting for a train? - no reason to not reply to a few work emails. Meeting somewhere you've never been before for dinner? - no point giving yourself contingency time in case you get lost now we have smartphones, just google map it and run-walk the whole way. 32 minutes walk my arse. I can do it in 25. Gone are the days of sitting in a restaurant strumming your thumbs at the bar, waiting for your table to be ready, now is the time you run in panting and sweaty, apologising to the waiter and hoping they've kept your table. All of it, from the expecting someone to come back to you straight away, to squeezing a zillion things into your spare 10 minutes because you can, it all drip drip drips. I think that is the reason anxiety is on the rise today.
5. Have a project - join your local choir, train for a competition, learn a new musical instrument, start a blog. Something that fills your mind with daydreams rather than worries when your mind decides to wander, a hobby that makes you feel like you've achieved something, that gives you a purpose.
6. Get professional help - from CBT to hypnotherapy to going on a meditation or breathing course, I'm not yet to find a therapy that can 100% fix me, but it has always made me so so much better, when I've dipped in and out of it, and I've tried to keep up the good habits its taught me.
7. Just accept it. The biggest turn around I've had with my anxiety is just accepting, yep I probably will have a panic attack, but it is not a disaster. A few months ago, my boyfriend went on a lads weekend to Leeds, the same weekend I had a low key hen do in Whitstable. I was so worried about not hearing from my boyfriend all weekend - him being killed in a motorway car crash (my second big fear, after him getting drunk and not coming home after a night out is of motorway driving) that I almost didn't go, almost told my friends I was sick, because I was sick in a way, right? I wanted to go home to my parents where I felt most safe and just watch some Teen Mom or Mindy Project to distract me. But then I figured, hey, so I might have a few panic attacks, but they won't last forever, and I won't die. Will won't die because I panic he has. And I did have one, but just one, on the Sunday, and it lasted for 20 minutes, and then I didn't feel fabulous, but I felt ok. I could see the fun in what I was doing. And up until then, I had a great time, and I look back on that weekend with fond memories and am so glad I went. Maybe being "a panicker" is like being an alcoholic, in the sense that however long you are sober, it doesn't stop you from being an alcoholic. However many weeks or months I go without anxiety, doesn't mean I'll never have a panic attack again - maybe it is just the way my brain deals with stress and sadness. I've put so much pressure on myself to "cure" myself of my anxiety, and probably I'll never be cured, but I'll work around it and minimise it, and it will open some new doors for me, and I'll try and make sure it doesn't close any, and that is ok.
Anyhoo, that is all for now - later this week I'll be back to waffling on about Bey and macaroni cheese.
Normally I point someone in the direction of one of my other posts at this point, but instead I am going to point you towards some great blogs and posts on anxiety.
The Anxiety Guru
Hannah Gale - she is just great in general, but this recent post about anxiety is really comforting
Zoella's vlog about her panic attacks and anxiety, basically got me to Whitstable that weekend:
