On 2015 - The Year I Decided To Live

It's that time again where I round up my year. Was wondering about how to do this as usually there is an honours list or a rant or something.

This year I thought I would just let you into some big news.

I decided to live.

See, at the beginning of the year I was really down. Like, proper down. Even though I had a job I loved with UNISON, was happier at home than I have ever been, actually had enough money to go for lunch with my friends now and then and had thrown myself into painting with some success, I had something missing and I didn't know what it was.

I decided to start to do things. Like, normal things. Like going to the cinema and stuff. You know, things. But it wasn't enough. It still all felt, well, temporary. Like it was going to come to an end and I would go back to being a nothing and a nobody and it would be all I deserved.

What changed? Well, not only did I nearly die, I decided to live.

In february, the hilariously funny Bethany Black finally remembered to tell me she was performing in Bristol so I could go and see her (love ya Beth) so Abbi and I cancelled the cinema and went to see her instead.

What followed was a perfect storm of really? Are you fucking with me up there?

Got to the venue, got a VIP booth! (v.cool) It had those horrid air fresheners. You know the ones. Every now and then they spit some shitty version of spring flowers at you like a passive aggressive florist camel. Nasty, disgusting things that sit on your chest and are proper horrible for asthmatics.

Watched Bethany Black perform. Fuck me that woman is funny. If you are only aware of her TV work (which is fab) then you are missing out. She made us howl. Literally lose my breath laughing. I cannot look at a Pringles tin or terriers with tennis balls now and if I hear the words 'run up' I lose my shit all over again. Trust me. Go see her do stand up. If you are asthmatic, take an inhaler.

I did take my inhaler and spent most of the night puffing on it like a tiny blue shisha. I was breathing but not that well.

Then the Perfect Storm brewed a bit more. I went outside after the gig and the cold february air hit me.

Then I lit a cigarette.

And took three steps.

Then collapsed.

At this point I have to thank Abbi again for saving my life. She was calm and brilliant and called the ambulance and rubbed my back so I could feel a link to this mortal coil. I can never ever repay her.

And this is where it gets all decision makey.

I nearly died out there on the Harbourside. I could feel myself leaving. There was no white light, no enigmatic, smiling face of Jesus. I could feel myself leaving my body. I would love to offer comfort by saying that I had a religious experience but I can't. Everything was dark and warm and not scary, but I could feel myself leaving.

I have struggled with suicidal ideation as part of my depression and PTSD for a long while. All of us who have mental health issues, I am willing to bet have had those moments when we think we'd like to just go to sleep and not wake up. Not do anything drastic to cause this, but just to have it all stop. That if we had the chance we wouldn't fight, would just let it go. Just let it be. Just rest.

No one is more surprised than me that I decided to stay, to fight and to live. But that is exactly what I did. I fought and grasped and held onto the feeling of Abbi's hand on my back as my link and I bloody well decided that I was not going gently into the good night. I was Goddess Fucking Deeva and I was Fucking Well Staying.

And I did. And the ambulance arrived and took me to the hospital and it was touch and go a few times and I kept fighting and kept alive and I spent a week at the BRI and I stayed.

I decided that existing wasn't enough.

I decided to live.

I quit smoking. I started eating healthier and took up running. I can now do 5k. I couldn't run for the bus before without needing my inhalers.

I got rid of toxic people in my life. I only have so much of it and I can't afford to have any of it drained from me.

I painted more. I started to actually call myself an artist and that has led to me selling paintings!

I got my kit off for a charity calendar.

I got more tattoos. I stopped letting things slide. I challenged even more than I ever did.

I proposed to The Lovely (and he said yes!)

I signed up to take a degree in Philosophy, Politics and Economics.

I have started learning Korean for when we go there on honeymoon.

I am standing for Labour in the local council elections.

I appreciate every single moment of my life.

Does that mean that I no longer have mental health issues? No. I still have depression, anxiety and PTSD. What it does mean is that when I get low, really low, I know longer think that I want to go to sleep and not wake up because I had a chance to do that and I decided not to. And that has been really liberating.

My life has changed. I am no longer in the same job. I now work in the NHS and spend a lot of my time talking to people who are self harming or have attempted suicide. I have been told I have a gift with them. I don't think I have. I think I am them. Just a version of them that decided to stay.

So Happy New Year to all my readers, followers, friends and family. Know that I am going nowhere and you have to put up with me a bit longer. My wish for you is that you live. Try new things. Get out of your comfort zone. Go to festivals. Get naked. Learn a new language.

We are dead a long time. But before that, we live.

Deeva xxx

On Showing Off The 'Good' Brown People

Hello!

Been a while, hasn't it? Been meaning to write but have been busy with new job and stuff (more on that in next post).

I am still to write my yearly round up, but today I thought I would deal with something that has been bugging me under the surface for a while and today popped its head up and screamed OI! at me.

The idea of debunking racism by being racist. Was chatting with the fab @poppycocktails on Twitter about it and wanted to get our thoughts down coherently. If there are any ideas that aren't coherent, be sure that they are mine and not hers. She was very clear. Me, not so much.

Now, don't get me wrong, I know and will reiterate that it is not the intent of people who are doing this to be vindictive or racist. I know and will reiterate that their intent is good and well meaning, even if the ideas behind their actions are deeply flawed. I know and will reiterate that it comes from a good place and that I will be seen as a baddy for pointing any of this out but you know me. I'm nothing if not honest. Even (especially) if it is going to get me into hot water.

So what has got my goat this time? The idea of the Good Brown Person.

The what now? (I hear you ask)

You know. The Muslims and Sikhs and refugees (gonna count them in as Brown to illustrate my point.) who are 'helping out' with the clean up after the floods in Yorkshire.

Syrians who want to give back to the communities that have shown them kindness.

The Sikhs and the Muslims who have been cooking and cleaning,

'Aren't they great?!' the narrative screams. 'THEY'RE NOT ALL EVIL AND SCARY OR JOB STEALY OR ANYTHING! Look, they are good ones.'

The problem with this is that as well meaning as I truly believe it is, it is wrapped in a subtle racism.

These Sikhs/Muslims/Refugees are not 'giving back' to communities, they are members of those communities and to label them otherwise, to hold them up as a shining example of a religion or a race is othering and missing the point.

By showing off the Good Brown People, (well meaning as it is, and I cannot reiterate this enough) it buys into the very narrative it is trying to debunk. It misses the point that actually, Muslims/Sikhs/Immigrants are not an homogeneous group of people whether they are attacking people at a Eagles of Death Metal gig or sweeping up their front yards in Yorkshire.

All of us have the capacity to be shits or angels or somewhere in between. Most of us, I would suggest fall into the latter category and are somewhere in between. ALL OF US.

So, Lazy Muslims/Sikhs.Immigrants are a thing. Not all of them are out trying to prove that they are not like the others. Holding up Good Brown People to show that shouldn't be a thing. It's desperately sad that we have come to this. No matter how well meaning people are being. (I truly believe they are. I may have mentioned this)

You would do better to argue with those that think that All Muslims Are Terrorists or that All Immigrants Steal Jobs or that All Sikhs Rip You Off and that NONE OF THEM EVER EVEN TRY TO INTEGRATE that actually they are human beings and they are the communities that they have gone in to 'help'. That they are the infrastructure of teachers and doctors and public servants and cleaners and nurses and leaders that idiots think that they are a drain on.

They don't have to integrate into communities. They are the communities.

Even better. Try to stop thinking about the Good Brown People as THEY and start just thinking of US.

I usually have a pithy rejoinder to end a post with but today I am stuck for one. (I'm blaming the work lurgy)

I will just end with the thought that I will stop being pissed off when we, the people, start realising who we, the people, actually are.