How Are They Not Panicking?,

Once upon a time, there was a man named Alexander Parkes, who created something plastic in about 1862. Whilst he isn't single-handedly to blame for the fact that the surface of the world can now be seen to be covered in a layer of it, the deepest dived depths of the oceans are littered with it and very few people seem to give enough of a toss to do anything meaningful about it, from my (exceedingly limited) research, he seems to be the start of the chain. 

Now, climate change and plastic litter aren't exactly the same thing, but they're produced by the same attitude, which is a generalised ignorance/IDGAF to how the next generation on this Earth cope, I just want my money, my fast fashion, my something for nothing, my ease, my convenience, my slice of the pie. The best reason I can see for this is either the fact that it's what the previous generation got or an enduring feeling of entitlement from everybody who likes to say that millennials are entitled little shits. Either way, I'm conflating the two issues for the purposes of this rant/blog. 

Yesterday the world was stunned as a relatively senior government official roughly handled a peaceful protester out of a fancy dinner. The fact that this protestor was a woman and that he's previously made speeches about how women in Britain should feel safe is awful, don't get me wrong, but to treat anyone like that is despicable. Furthermore, how is he, and every other politician in that room, not waking up anxious about the direction that we're headed in? I know I have an anxiety disorder, but I'm genuinely scared. 

But here's the big problem I have. The other video I watched on my phone this morning was about the mountains of plastic that we've all dutifully deposited into our recycling bins in the hope of creating a better tomorrow. We're trying. We the public understand we're in a f**king mess and WE. ARE. TRYING. but it turns out that, since China stopped importing plastic waste in 2018 an old problem got a hundred times bigger and now there are large scale dumps of recyclable left out to the elements, where they are damaged to the point they can no longer be recycled for one thing, and for another, there are more and more of them ending up in our water. Yes, it's our water. If the next major conflict in the world is over resources, it won't be about oil - it's going to be water. 

With that in mind, I frantically looked into something which has interested me for a while. In Google'd how I can recycle more at home and cut out the middle man. 

The first thing that came up was a flooring company and how they use these large scale, industrial machines (which would definitely not fit into my living room) to recycle their own waste and some of the waste from their suppliers, into vinyl flooring. Now, that's incredible and I can only hope that they link up with companies like Huf Haus, who prefabricate housing modules and use their own sawdust waste as a component in their insulation, to provide homes with a really decent eco-vision behind them, but Huf Haus is expensive. It's a build you're own vision of homes, and it's based in Germany so there are all those complications like exchange rates and Brexit, plus all of the miles that the materials travel when they're made into their pre-fabricated panels, but still...

As much as those two companies are amazing, and they are, even them working together is just this idea of a small number of people doing low waste or zero waste really well, and it's not something which can be replicated on a major scale to address the plastic problem (even if prefabricating housing means you can reduce costs, provide a better environment for workers and build homes much more quickly which would also cut across to the housing crisis, and using a lot of recyclable materials which are already doing nothing would significantly reduce costs further). (Take a breath, Charlie)

There is a company which has released their designs for a small production line like set of machines which grind plastic into small pieces, like Hama beads for example, melt these pieces together and create either a wire, which can be wound into things like bowls, or light shades, or can also be melted into molds to create things like bowls, spinning tops, ornaments, or really anything you wanted to make as long as you could create or source the metal mold for it, but the problem with that is, well there are several. 

First one, who has the space to fit these things? I live in London, so that's a no. Everywhere we are being encouraged to economise on space, because it's cheaper and because then they can jam more people into a smaller area and the housing crisis looks a little bit less awful through the government issue rose-tinted spectacles. Number 2 (deviating to numerical indicators makes them easier to find - sorry.) These machines are still expensive. I applaud the people at that gave away their designs, really, I do, but the number of people who really have the cash to commit to something like this is not going to be high if we're being completely honest. 3, These are not some IKEA flat packs with a funky sounding name. They are pretty complex pieces of machinery and you need to be able to build them. There are a lot of Youtube videos provided to walk you through the process, but there is a certain amount of tool waving know-how you're going to need to bring to the table, too. And 4, there are only so many plastic bowls and light shades and other things we need in the world. Just because it's made of recycled plastic, doesn't mean people are going to want it. 

So, where the hell does that leave us? Or me, because I was originally thinking about this in a context of what can I do. 

Well, it seems I'm in the exact same boat I was before. All I can do is try my best within the limits of what I am able to do. I'm proud of the fact I own metal straws and generally, say no to plastic ones in bars (generally because sometimes I don't see them until they're in my drink and then they're going in the bin regardless). I'm proud that I haven't used a disposable coffee cup since the beginning of this year. It has been longer than that, but that's the marker I gave myself. I'm proud I haven't faltered on that even what I've forgotten my reusable and I really want a coffee. I'm proud that most of my clothes come from charity shops or eBay because there is still a hell of a lot of life in them yet. I'm proud that I fix things rather than throw them and I'm proud that I do what I can to find options for purchasing things with reduced or no plastic. I'm proud of the fact that I've been getting cans of diet coke when I want a diet coke, rather than bottles because cans are easier to recycle and are more wider recycled. As far as I'm aware, there aren't the same mountains of Coke cans in Malaysia or elsewhere that have been discarded. I am so proud of those things, but it still doesn't feel like enough, and I don't know what more to do. 

Despite the anxiety, despite Pete's screaming that the world is on fire, I know this is something it's reasonable to worry about, and it just has me questioning, how are politicians, bankers, billionaires and the girl who lives in my building who puts her food waste in plastic bags, despite the fact I've politely told her it's a redundant thing to do...how the hell are they not scared? How are they not panicking? 

Starting from the Bottom Now We're, Oh Wait, There's the Bottom Again,

So, here we are again. 

Up until recently, things had been looking up. I was getting better, my anxiety, Pete, was getting back in his box and leaving me alone for slightly longer stretches (who's a good boy, Pete!) and my giant photo wall of happiness was growing at an alarming rate with all of the amazing things I was doing. 

And then it was like moving forwards on the game 'Snakes and Ladders' and there was a snake and I felt like I was right back to square 1. It's like what I imagine was the moment of realization in 'The Good Place' that actually, this was the bad place. In fact, that's pretty much exactly what it felt like. 

This blog is going to be super fun to write because the c key on my laptop keeps sticking and I can't right the write right first time over. 

My new job was sold to me as an idea of the good place. It was a permanent promotion, it was shiny, spangly and high profile. Just under 9 weeks in and I'm struggling to keep my head out of the toilet bowl because today feels like the same level of stress as when I was finishing university. We're back into the stage where I want to throw up, and will only eat bananas and carbs. (Carb-y things make it difficult to vomit and bananas have a lot of vitamins in. There is logical even in my "madness".)

I know I'm lucky to have a job. I'm really lucky to have a good job, but when you're job is putting pressure on your mental health to this extent, it's not luck, it's torture. I have worked really hard on my career, but I've also worked really hard on being okay, and I was getting there. This slip is so wounding. 

Thankfully, this not being the first time I've fallen on the wagon and down the steep, rocky slope to rock bottom, this time I remembered to bring one of those gubs that shoots grappling hooks back up to the road. This time, instead of letting myself continue to plummet, I've hit a ledge and thrown my hands up in the air and said "I need help" "This can't continue" "I can't do this" and most importantly "I'm not letting this happen to me." This time, I know my trigger, and I'm taking my finger firmly off of it and I'm making a plan. 

Instead of looking at myself in the mirror and allowing myself to feel like a failure, I'm reminding myself that looking after me is more important than the job. It has to be. That's not to say I'm giving up on my job and my life and moving back into my mum's house because I'm done with adulthood - though God, sometimes I wish I could do that - but I am working with my boss to take some of the stress out and build some more flexibility in. Despite the title of this blog, I've not reached my rock bottom again, because this time I realised I was falling, and I accepted it was happening in time to not let it get that far. 

Anxiety is a horrible thing. Pete tried to tell me it was my fault today. I wasn't trying hard enough, I wasn't smart enough and I was being lazy. It feels somewhat miraculous that, despite all of that above, I was strong enough. I was strong enough to tell Pete to piss off. Back in your box now, Pete. I'm starting from a new bottom and I'm going to hike my way back up. 

Another Woman's Body,

I've been working on the whole #DearJune thing as a project for myself, but this one prompt of bodies makes me want to share it. It makes me feel a little bit sick, but I'll work through it. 

People have very often looked at me and wondered why I would be unhappy with my body. The idea of 'You are so skinny' as a compliment kind of upsets me. I was tiny. Partly it's my frame, but it's also partly fear of ending up having another kind of weight problem like some of the people in my family, but I wasn't happy about it. I wanted to have hips and boobs as well as the tiny waistline, and for a little while it happened and I just had to hate the way my joints looked (seriously, I have properly weird looking knees) and then before I knew it, I woke up in another woman's body.

It's partly that we change over time, of course, but then it's also the fact that I love snacking a bit too much and have never been the biggest fan of exercise so when my metabolism slowed down a bit, suddenly, the snacking caught up with me. Half of my jeans don't fit, I split the zip in one of my favorite dresses and don't often feel comfortable in my own body. I have zebra stripes on my thighs from gaining weight rather quickly and also from the running. I hate my running shorts because of it and swimsuits, but if I don't go running and swimming, I'll never find my way back to the body that felt like it was mine. On the other hand, I know I need to learn to love the body that I have, and there are definitely parts of it that I love (the boobs; I love the boobs. Gaining weight in that area has not been a hardship, except for having to buy new clothes) some parts of it I find really difficult to accept. 

Part of me wishes that it was a Freaky Friday sort of thing, that there was just a little something to learn and then I could snap back into my old body and that would be that, but obviously it isn't that simple.