Not So Social, Social Groups

After the incident at the Skeptics Group, I found myself re-evaluating what the Hell these meet-up social groups are really about, and who are they for?

They cater for an idea of what constitutes a social gathering, that is true, but its not really my idea of what that should be.

I have, I think, been kidding myself by seeing these meet-up groups as the best way of locating new friends. These groups are sold as meetings to find friendship, so, it is this marketing that has deluded me.

I now see that this meet-up group set up, is akin to picking up a man/woman in a bar, and then expecting to get married and live happily ever after with them! These meet-up groups offer no real, connected or longevity relationship; nothing substantial can come from this setting. It is empty, self serving, shallow and based on no form of real identity or trust.

I am not looking for a sexual partner, don’t get my words twisted, I am looking for a friend or friends. These are what such meet-up groups are supposed to be about; friendship connections, fun and interesting people, yet, they aren’t. Why aren’t they?!

It is a BIG FAT CON!

So far there have been empty promises, cancelations, being used for english language practice, men and women trying their luck, bitchiness, arrogance, self importance and ‘intellectualism’ (but really it has been delusions of grandeur)!

Put people together in such phoney settings and see the worst surface in them.

Are there genuine, and decent people existing in cities such as Madrid? Or, are they all too wrapped up in themselves, and their lives to allow potential decent folk into their little bubbles? Are they afraid of change, of something new, of a challenge?

I never felt it was hard to make friends before, OK, not all of those I have been friends with remain my friends, but at least I had friends! Here, in Madrid, it seems an up-hill struggle.

I feel as though I am having to make all the effort to connect, and it peeves me! I think I have eventually met a potential friend, and then it begins, the same old; ‘I can’t do that’, ‘have to cancel that’, ‘sorry but,’, blah, blah, blah!

Perhaps it is me? Perhaps I come across as weird or something? Perhaps being talkative, listening, being friendly and polite is weird? Perhaps I should try being rude, aloof and obnoxious? Perhaps next time someone says, let’s arrange to go for coffee, I should reply, if you want a coffee with me then you get in touch with me first and then we shall see.

I wonder if they would get in touch, but I won’t wonder for long! The answer is going to be that 99.9% of people won’t bother to get in touch!

This makes me doubly peeved; if I was looking for no strings sex here in Madrid, I’d have no issue, sex is everywhere. Yet, finding decent friendships is like asking for the sun and the moon on a gold platter! I really don’t get it; empty and meaningless sexual encounters holds more place in people’s lives than decent, fulfilling, longevity and substantial friendships!

Friendships are important, they can encourage, improve and stabilise mental, and spiritual well-being.

It is really quite sad when you think about what this ‘sex culture’ has to say about people, and their priorities.

What Is Hope?

Hope, the best weapon against life.

I had a rather disconcerting conversation with my friend yesterday, which all began because I asked the question; “What makes me unusual?”

Somehow the topic shifted. Soon we, I.E my friend and I  begun discussing my desire to pursue a career, and the reason why I insist upon believing in a dream job (term applied loosely; this represents a job I truly enjoy, and feel good about doing).

My friend told me; “Dream jobs don’t exist! Plus, they are immaterial because everyone only works for the money”.

I then tried to explain my take on the dream job; “I need to feel I am achieving something and also progressing. My work life cannot be static; it has to move forwards and not backwards. I need to feel I am respected, appreciated and have responsibility in a job. I want to be treated like an intelligent individual and not an idiot. I need to have a say in my working life to prevent me becoming thoroughly miserable”.

This explanation was also frowned upon.

Yet, is wanting those things from a job completely farcical?

I then asked my friend to consider how much she had actually progressed. She now has a better position with more respect and authority given to her. I told her that she may still not be ecstatic, and may still wish to be living a leisurely life with endless funds at her disposal; but compared to how it had been for her, she now had a better life (thanks to her better job, which suits her).

All I ask is similar – to be respected and appreciated. I wouldn’t want to be an employee who is bullied, used and abused. I want to feel I am worthy and being valued in a company. I want to feel invested in. If I have to work for a living I want to be as happy as I can be doing what pays me.

I told my friend; “You are turning what I want into a negative, as though I am a dreamer. I need to believe I can find something which suits me, and will enhance me” (admittedly I am never happy anywhere for long).

My friend replied; “It would be great if dream jobs existed, but they don’t so don’t dwell on them”.

Really, and why not? Why can’t a person have more than they currently have? Why can’t they look at attaining elements of a dream job if it makes them happy or if they feel there is more hope from doing so.

I know my friend has abandoned her ideas of a dream job; thinking they will never come to fruition. Perhaps also she has abandoned her hope to achieve more in her life. This thought saddens me, and she knows it does. I cannot understand why she insists on being resigned to the fact things won’t change.

True enough; we can’t all conquer or  change the world, but we ourselves can change. We do grown, develop, learn and progress – even within a job and this helps us attract more in our lives. If people reflect upon their lives they would be shocked how far they have come, but haven’t even realised. No one should give up without trying to achieve more, as that is what life is; experience and progression from one thing to the next.

 

I think my friend, like many other people feel it is practical to dismiss hope. Just by stating you have achieved all you think is possible at any age is depressing; life isn’t over until its over – so keep going! If I thought there was nothing more I would crack! I have always clung onto hope. I may have fleetingly considered things might not get better or things may not change, yet, not for long. I have never clung to the notion that there is nothing more for me to achieve in this life.

I actually wonder whether losing hope means you die – not physically, but internally? What is hope if not truly delusion, and yet without it, who are we and what is our life?

Without hope life is a reality stripped bare and basic; bills, work, money, worry, aliments, ageing, disappointments, lack of motivation, no goals in life. We would all then lose faith in ourselves and our lives – what would it all be like if we didn’t hope there would be more?

Hope, it is all we have for free, and without it life is damn grim. I know I prefer to live with hope than without it. How about you?

**Above insert by: www.microkosmic.com***

A Ray Of Light

Being back here in the UK again so soon, feels weird. I must admit I’m not feeling 100% my usual ‘on top of the world’, and am struggling to maintain a smile and the facade of happiness.

Everything lately has seemingly taken an effect on me, like a delayed reaction. I was angry, and now I have had time to think I just feel sad. I can’t fully explain everything , all the emotions, they feel like a weight attached to my heart. I feel I need to sigh a lot, which means I have unresolved malarkey milling about inside, waiting to be set free – usually with a good cry.

Crying, is easier said than done. I am now in my parents house; time alone to ruminate is not really the easiest thing to procure! Also, I feel quite foolish, no one has died, so why do I feel so emotional and down??

I know a few bad things have occurred, and between them and other things (which are no doubt unresolved), the tension inside has been mounting for a while. I have allowed the bad feelings to lingering within me for too long a time.

So, feeling weird, and with the unnecessary little altercation over a pear (yes, over a piece of fruit), I left my parent’s house to walk. I needed to walk the emotions off, to give myself some space in the fresh air. I myself needed time away from anyone or anything just to think, to free my mind.

Although it was raining heavily I didn’t care, I let my feet take me in the direction they wanted to go. I found myself heading towards the graveyard, where my Grandmother (my Dad’s Mum) and my Grandfather (my Mum’s Dad) is buried.

Sounds morbid maybe, but I needed to be there. I hardly ever visit their graves, why, well I don’t believe they are actually there. I feel their essence left when they passed away, but sometimes being where they lie can be a focal point, a place to be at peace and think.

To cut a long story short my Grandfather or Tid as I called him from a baby, was like a second Father to me. I was close to him and my Nanna (who is currently ill in hospital). I couldn’t and still can’t really visit his grave without feeling emotional. Today, with everything mounting was no exception. I cried, and couldn’t stop myself. Although I was chiding myself for being foolish, for visiting ‘him’ with my shit when he, wherever he is, doesn’t need it, made me feel like an idiot.

I mean, it could be worse; I could be lying there where he is, instead I am alive and nothing is as bad as being dead.

So, I sat and thought and cried.

Then I noticed, from no-where a funeral procession was approaching me. This has never happened before. The exact spot I was sitting the funeral was making its way towards – taking up both walkways. I was a little shocked, and being dressed in black anyway I thought; ‘oh my goodness, I’m crying and in black, they’ll think I’m one of the relatives’!

I got up and left, and in that moment I felt relieved, a weight had been lifted. I laughed to myself at the irony – the coincidence. Moments before I saw the procession arrive I had said ‘Could be worse I could be dead’, and then there was the proof, walking towards me!

As I laughed and walked away the sun came out, the rain stopped and I just knew someone, somewhere was saying; ‘see, don’t be foolish, things will get better’.  I felt it was some sort of ‘sign’, some sort of comfort.

A weird comfort, but it worked.

 

I felt as though someone had heard me, and was trying to comfort me as best they could.

I don’t know what any of you will think reading this, perhaps that I have gone crazy. Yet, for me, it was the ‘sign’ I needed.

Back At It

So, after leaving Madrid for the UK and worrying myself sick over the flight, and all the messing about that is associated with flying in this time of paranoia. I am once again returned to Madrid; my week away gone all too quickly.

Getting myself back into the routine of life here in Madrid is proving a little difficult, although I know I have only in theory really been back a few hours.

What is making the settling back down harder is the fact that this time I stayed at my parent’s house. I am a person who is used to and likes time alone, but I didn’t get much of this back in the UK. So, now I have become accustomed to having people that love me around me more frequently, and I am used to talking about things with them throughout the day.  Plus, I have become a little too reliant (and enjoyed) my families home cooking – so I feel I was spoilt whilst there.

Yet, it isn’t just that.

My Grandmother (Nanna) was taken into hospital the second day I was back. She had fallen and broken her hip and thigh bones. I was immediately struck with shock and worry. I knew that if she had to undergo an operation she might not survive it. My Nanna is 81 in April, and she has never before had an operation (nor general aesthetic).

Yet, regardless of this my Nanna came through a lengthy op to wake and discover she had titanium extras in place of her broken bones. Relief, well, yes, I felt over the moon all was well. My Nanna and I are very close, and I love her dearly.

However, I am left wondering how well the after-care will be now. I am not there to witness this. I told her before I left her on Sunday that if I hear of any problems I will not hesitate to return back to the UK, and ensure any wrong doing is rectified, and any mistreatment is punished. After writing previously about the shocking NHS standards, I am under no illusion that they are perfect. How these people are able to treat or mistreat older people in their care is grotesque.

I also wonder if now my Nanna will actually receive more ‘professional’ help about the house, or even be entitled to some welfare benefits. Currently she gets nothing at all, she survives on her pension, which after scrimping and saving towards for over 40 years, has become a meagre amount. My Nanna still pays her way and even is taxed on her pension, after working all her life, she still has nothing for free. It infuriates me, when there are others who receive more in benefits than she does in pension, and they do have plenty for nothing.

This idea that the elderly are rolling around in money they all stuff under their mattresses is ridiculous. Yet, even if they are ‘well off’ at least they have worked for it – a generation of people who had to work for it, otherwise they’d receive nothing.  They didn’t expect anything to be handed to them on a platter, and the world didn’t owe them a living like most of today’s generation believes. These people strived and struggled to have security in their later years (a good pension), and yet many of these people aren’t even receiving that little luxury.

The other thing I had been questioning was myself.

A friend of mine was happy enough to lay the guilt trip on me, during these initial few days of extreme worry. She believes herself to be ‘Mother Teresa’. Her Father was dying and she felt compelled to ‘care’ for him, though she has children and a husband. I say ‘care’, but in theory he passed away, which they knew he would, before any real care could transpire. The care that involves 24/7 support didn’t come to fruition; the washing, dressing, lifting the person, toileting the person, housework, shopping, preparation of meals, feeding them, dealing with he household bills and so on and so on.

My friends ‘care’ of her Father consisted of taking her Dad out for day trips, sitting and talking to him, reminiscing and offering comfort, having a drink with him, putting his affairs in order and that was that.

I wonder how she would have felt in an alternate situation whereby she had to suspended her life with her family to really care for her Dad?

I know I am no martyr to the cause; I am inherently selfish. I knew when it all came down I couldn’t say I would sacrifice myself and life to care for my Nanna. Am I brave or stupid to even acknowledge such limitations; who can tell.

I have always thought professional care would be the better option, as they are supposed to know what they are doing. I don’t mean I would abandon anyone to their fate in the hands of strangers, but I couldn’t be as proficient as trained carers would be. I wouldn’t know where to begin.

My life too is no longer in the UK, so that alone poses a major barrier. I couldn’t say goodbye to my ties here, and return to care for my Nanna. Not that she expects that of me; she wants me to live my life and is happy for me. Yet, see what doubts are implanted from a few unthoughtful words from a friend.

I doubted myself, and still do – what am I worth if I can’t give back to a person I love? I feel like a shitty human being, but this isn’t helping. I mean having these thoughts during a time when all I needed to think about was whether my Nanna would actually live through the operation and trauma, it just added distress.

Why did my friend think it was OK to upset the apple cart even more, with her few words of ‘wisdom’ on the matter of caring for a relative?

What was she thinking?

A friend who thought I shouldn’t return to my life in Madrid. A friend willing to add insult to injury, and stress to an already stressful situation. A friend who judged me when I needed her, who threw back in my face all my impartial support of her through her Father’s illness and ensuing death.

All because I wouldn’t bow to her ‘ideal’ of what a person, a relative should do.

So now I am back in Madrid with threads left in the UK, which aren’t tied up into neat pretty bows.

I suppose I shall have to find a way to square all this, or face feeling a juxtaposition with everything I have here.

 

Healing Within

Picture from: redbubble.com
“Inner Turmoil”

“Trying to win every battle can be hard,

therefore to stay positive and strong is also hard.

That is why inner healing is a

slow process over time, which requires patience”.

 

The Savvy Senorita (AKA: Bex Houghagen) 2013