Why we need to be terrified!

My friends and I have a theory about scary, nasty films and why as kind, empathic people, we need to watch them.

We WANT to be scared; we NEED to be. Like a strange compulsion, like an itch that's impossible not to scratch. Don't get me wrong; I love 'romcoms' and I love to get absorbed in the beauty of Disney or in heartwarming dramas, and true stories of people overcoming obstacles. I'm a mum, and protective over what my daughter sees. I''m a generally positive person and I love to be inspired. But sometimes, when my soul goes to that 'dark place' and nothing else will do, I simply need to sit and be terrified, freaked out, uneasy, jumpy, even sick to the pit of my stomach. But thrilled too. And then gleefully tell my (probably) concerned partner all about it!

I'm having flashbacks of watching the Hellraiser films again recently, for the first time in around 15 years. The first one was made in 1987, and the effects were all pretty much practical, with almost no CGI. A bit of stop-start motion, and shed-loads of gore and grisly torture scenes involving hooks, chains and the pulling apart of body parts. Gross. Bleak. Yet the film also has an elegance, and a whole underground adoration scene going on. Clive Barker's story is fascinating and open to much interpretation; it's far from a typical 'slasher.' The 'monsters' are mainly the main characters who are human beings, particularly Julia, who agrees to bring innocent men back to the house in order to sacrifice them, so that their blood and bodies can help resurrect the body of her dead lover, Frank (her husband's brother). The demonic Cenobites in the film are more like impartial observers to humankind's need to hurt themselves and others, and in fact only torture those who have summoned them via the mysterious and beautiful puzzle box (in the earlier films anyway).

I remembered the first film being gory and disturbing back in my early twenties, but watching it again actually floored me; I couldn't stop myself grimacing, teeth and all! The degree of gore and sickening visuals, plus the emotionally disturbing story-lines shown, and alluded to, actually turned my stomach! I'd cooked a small pizza to sit down and watch it with - BAD idea! Yet I loved it. It's so strange how you can be a normal person who gives to charity, helps little old ladies in stores, and would never dream of engaging in real-life activities such as Devil-worship or murder, yet watching psychologically distressing films and t.v. series is a fun way to pass the time, especially with others who enjoy similar stuff.

I've spent years trying to figure out why this is. I read once about the 'fear' gene, and how people either get terrified of films or they don't. I read something else about the fine line between fear and sexual arousal, and I also had a very interesting conversation with another friend about how we 'bond' over frightening films. I've heard of that kind of thing before - 'trauma bonding,' but only related to crazy traumatic experiences or abusive relationships.

I also received some advice about horror whilst attending a mental health class that lasted 6 weeks, and had some valuable tips. I learnt that horror actually puts us into a trauma state - I wonder how many people who routinely enjoy horror films/books/podcasts, have some kind of trauma in their past? And we're comfortable in a weird way with this trauma, so we seek out those dread feelings again, and they satisfy us in some twisted way. I think that maybe we even feel some validation or safety within these 'fear' feelings and horror experiences - maybe it's some way of having horror 'outside of us' instead of inside us. If you think about it, there's no shame in enjoying horror - I've had many gleeful conversations about it with people over the years! Yet when we think of the trauma we've suffered in our own personal history (abuse etc) there's shame involved.

I was advised by mental health professionals to 'balance out' the horror I am irresistibly drawn to, with a bit more comedy and lightheartedness, etc. I remember arguing profusely, actually feeling panicky and defensive, trying to justify my preferences, but actually, it has helped, especially with my up and down moods and occasional depression. Stuff that makes me feel good and makes me laugh, IS going to lift my mood, whether I want it to or not! Though I do still regularly seek out terror in film form. And Netflix has become very formidable in terms of cutting edge horror ideas.

So maybe occasionally enjoying horror is an acceptable way to make the internal external, and to enjoy ourselves whilst munching on popcorn and hiding behind the sofa cushions or shrieking with friends as the axe-man/clown/demon appears on the screen...

Everything in moderation eh...?

Yours scarily,
Karen xxx

Do YOU love horror or hate it? What's your favourite format to enjoy it in? Let me know in the comments!

Blog 13: Viva kindness!

Ever noticed how the whole friendship structure has changed over the last ten years or so? In the good old days (oi! less of the 'old') we had friends, and we phoned them to arrange get-togethers and nights out. And we all mostly turned up, and had fun together, and that was the end of that story.

These days we can live such segregated lives; families scattered all over the country, The odd modern phenomenon of 'real' friends' and 'Facebook friends,' relying on phones and tablets for the bulk of our social interaction. It's almost as if we're losing the art of face-to-face conversation if we're not careful to practice and perfect it as an every day skill. I rarely have phone chats now even with my most beloved friends – it feels like a big commitment or an activity that needs to be scheduled because it takes up TIME. It's terrible! I need to just pick up the phone more! It's also so easy now to stuff our faces in our phones, to feel suspicious of others, afraid of muggings or attacks; easier to look down at the ground rather than - God forbid - to smile at a stranger.

It's much easier (and acceptable) to give a 'like' on Facebook or comment on somebody's post, than it is to take the time to have an ACTUAL telephone or face-to-face conversation. The fact is we need to preserve and nurture our real life relationships, and even convert online friendships into real ones (where it feels appropriate) where you actually meet, get to know each other, and connect. Consider this: how many of your Facebook friends do you actually KNOW?

For all our talk of 'connectivity,' for all our technological abilities, we have never as a nation and maybe even as a planet suffered so much isolation, depression and loneliness. Even my 8 year old daughter is more techie than I am, and I have to be very firm and disciplined with her in regards to watching cartoons on Netflix, hence I can easily lose her down the rabbit hole. How ironic eh? We can click onto our smartphones and speak to people from potentially all over the world, all walks of life, and yet, there is an epidemic of suicides and suicidal feelings, especially in younger people, and older men. It's so sad. How do we fix this?

To start with we have to 'be the change.' For example, if we feel lonely - try and reach out to someone in THEIR moment of loneliness. Message a friend who's going through a tough time. Buy a hot drink on an icy day for someone who is sleeping rough. If we're feeling sad and isolated, go to a place where we feel comfortable and relaxed, like our favourite coffee shop, and smile at the people who come in. Start a conversation with the girl who serves you; ask how her day has been. It's amazing how often people light up emotionally when somebody reaches out and is nice to them. In return, we feel better connected, AND we've contributed to the community in a positive way.

If everybody did this – wow, imagine the ripple effect. Kindness is a revolution that is spreading and gaining momentum, a rebellion against war and fear and negativity, and the self obsessed narcissism of social media.

Join the revolution! After all - it's cool to be kind...

Love ALWAYS,

Karen xxx

Blog Number 12: Six month lifetime (a poem)

Six months passed in the twinkling of an eye

Spans what feels like several lifetimes

We have been a partnership for 26 weeks

It doesn't sound long

Yet every day is and has always been

Another bond forged, more loving words exchanged

Honesty embraced, truths exchanged and thus

Vulnerability coaxed

From our scared and hesitant shells

From that first date, we both thought the other 'too good for us'

We were yet to realise we are both good enough

For ourselves, and perfect for each other

We both have battled

Through decisions good and bad

Through heartache, distrust and loss

Both experienced changes and crises

Which altered us to our core

Both wanting the soft and tender glow of true connection

Yet too afraid to open up fully

So we simply spoke, and walked, and were

Ourselves, taking our time, not rushing or putting on a show

A magical time lapse

As if everything else was on hold

So that we could simply be

And share, and get to know each other

By the river on a sunny afternoon

I told you about my diagnosis

You listened and accepted and understood

Told me about family and history

I listened with open heart and ears

Wanting to know you

Wanting to understand who you are

And what matters to you

So surreal

To meet a stranger I felt I'd known forever

And discovering that you felt the same

Sometimes I think about what it'd feel like

If I had never met you

If you had never taken my hand for the first time

If we had never kissed

If I had never melted into those arms

Feeling safe and warm

I can't imagine having never laughed so hard I cried

Or never danced around the supermarket aisles

Oblivious to stares and smiles

I can't imagine

Not having your love

Absorbing your kind compassion

Your understanding, your smile

Your blue eyes looking into mine

Searching and seeing me

With such love and intensity

That it dazes me and puts me into a love trance

And I simply cannot believe

Just how lucky I am

Every day with you feels like a lifetime

For Adam.

With much love,

Karen xx

Blog number 11: Who is the modern Knight in Shining Armour?

Who is the modern Knight in Shining Armour?

In olden days and fairy tales the Knight is a romantic yet dominant pursuer of his woman; she has little say in what happens to her. Her job is to be helpless; either asleep for a hundred years waiting for that reviving kiss, or hanging out of a tall tower, imprisoned until the Knight slays the dragon/climbs the tower/defeats the ogre and rescues her.

So I got thinking about the modern equivalent. In these days of equal rights and gender fluidity, where men can be feminine and women can be masculine, is there any room still for tradition and chivalry? Hell yes.

There's nothing wrong with a bit of romance. Women should be allowed to be women; to feel feminine, and men should be allowed to act like gentlemen. That's not to say people should be subservient out of fear or feeling inferior, or abusive, but we should be allowed to embrace our natural energies.

Here are some ideas about the Modern Knight:

The Modern Knight catches spiders instead of killing dragons. He acts with nobility and integrity, and appreciates that some of us are terrified banshees when it comes to certain creepy crawlies. He brandishes a bug catcher or a broom, instead of a sword.

The Modern Knight walks on the outside, near the road and the cars (not horses and carts). He does this to protect his lady from danger. I personally find this very sweet when my man does this.

You may not need him to kiss you awake and bring you back to life, but you appreciate it to the core when he believes in you, respects you, and champions your dreams and achievements. The Modern Knight doesn't wear a mask (helmet) - he is truly himself. He is consistent, not faking anything or setting out to cast a spell over you.

You dance together in the supermarket aisles, not at the ball. You travel not on his TRUSTY steed, but in his RUSTY Rover '45 - and you wouldn't change a thing.

I think the modern day definition of a Knight, is in how he makes you feel - much more than how he looks or what castles he owns. He finds you beautiful and you think he's handsome. His armour comes from his confidence in himself, and his gallantry comes not from his power, but the respect and courtesy he has for others and himself.

He brings you flowers (rather than the head of a dragon) to cheer you up or to show you he loves you and that your needs matter to him, not only if he's done something wrong. He makes you feel like a Princess, even when you're in pyjamas, feeling crap, or having a bad hair/face day.

Theoretically, he'll climb that tower, slay that enemy, be your hero...

Good day to you. Good Knight!


With love always,

Karen xxx

Blog number 10: What's our identity?

I was walking along the road, about to pick up my daughter from school, and I suddenly thought to myself 'Where's my identity gone? Why has it changed over the years? What IS identity and how is it formed?'

It seemed such a weird, random question to pop into my head, but an important one too, because it affects us all. Whoever we are, whatever our upbringing, goals and personality, our likes and dislikes, however ambitious (or not) we are, we all have an identity, and I imagine that for most of us, that identity is tied in very strongly with what we DO in our day to day life. How do YOU define yourself? How would you identify yourself, and does it change day to day?

As I was walking along, playing the role of MUM, I was feeling like a MUM. That was the role I was identifying the strongest with at that moment. I have to say that one of my favourite and most wonderful part of being a mum, is the moment my daughter comes out of school, searches for me, and a beam spreads across her face as she waves frantically. That feels wonderful, fulfilling, inexplicably joyous. In that moment I'm a mother, doing my job, looking after my daughter and making her smile. I belong at that school gate and I belong with her.

Parenting is only part of who I am.

I've only been a parent for seven years though. Which means I've only identified with that role for that amount of time. What about before then? I have juggled many roles in my life – student, friend, daughter, employee, adviser, girlfriend, partner, wife, carer, housekeeper, cook, decision maker, coach, confidante, provider, customer. Etc. 

When we meet someone new we generally ask: 'What do you do?' We answer according to where we are in our life at that time: 'I am a shop assistant. Nursery Nurse. Administrator. Customer Service provider. Telephone operator. Volunteer. Network Marketer. Entrepreneur. Blogger. Writer. Mother. Disabled.' These things we do shouldn't define us. Yet they seem to.

For example, a full time salesman may feel very strongly identified with his professional selling role whilst at work. He may feel like a HUNTER. If he lives alone, the selling may be what he identifies with the strongest. However he may go home to a wife and young children, and during that 'home' time he'll likely become a PROVIDER and identify strongly (maybe even more so) with those caring activities. He may become Father/Husband/A Broad Shoulder. His identity may switch around depending on where he is and who he is with. It's now known that a man's testosterone levels drop once he becomes a father, preparing him for this different role.

Why isn't our identity more stable?

You would think that our identity would be much more of a spiritual, constant one, regardless of what we do. I Googled 'spiritual identity' and it mainly related to religious aspects. Why does it have to be so specific? Isn't it more important to know who we are deep down; to have good and inclusive beliefs and values, in a 'whole self' kind of a way? To have our unshakeable convictions that nobody else can shift?

Why does it matter too much what someone does? Of course it matters a bit, especially if they really are doing something that reflects who they truly are and what they love. But isn't it more important to know someone's core values, beliefs, passions? Why isn't the first question we ask someone: 'So, what do you care about? What do you love about life? What are your passions? What do you believe in?'

I think our identity evolves over time. I even think that maybe as we get older and wiser, we soften and relax into our identity as a whole. Now at 37 (nearly 38), I feel much more relaxed with my sense of 'me,' and at my core I know who I am and what matters to me, regardless of what else is going on in my life.

I am at my core, loving, childlike, introverted, conscientious, adventurous, nurturing, stubborn, silly, passionate, creative, and curious. And constantly evolving. How about you?

With love AWAYS,
Karen xxx

Blog number 9: Why do we FALL in love?

Why do we fall in love?

Me and my partner were chatting about love. And I asked suddenly, 'Why do we fall in love? Why don't we step into love, or meander into the feeling?'

It got me thinking. Why is it like a crashing into a wall, like a losing of oneself? Falling in love for me, and I imagine for most others, brings a huge amount of fear, the fear of complete vulnerability, a lack of control. It's been likened to a kind of insanity by brain experts; we lose our reason and sense of logic. We literally go crazy in love!

We find ourselves taking a massive risk with our feelings, laying our cards on the table, admitting our weaknesses and our dreams, telling someone we care about how we really feel. We dare to risk the devastating possibility that the other person, the person we are losing our heart to, may not feel the same way.

We forget to remember.

Falling in love is so weird when you think about it. I imagine it like childbirth; the pain and trauma, then we forget and do it all over again. We're addicted to the euphoria, to the insanity and the drama. And the sublime end result; being with someone who loves us, whom we love back with equal ferocity.

Falling in love, no matter how scary it is, also requires something else of us, something positive. Something you can't quantify: faith. You either have it or you don't. You either believe your relationship could work/might work/will work, or you don't. I think we know when we're losing faith; we either get scared, or we start losing our heart and enthusiasm. The good news though, is that we can rebuild faith, every day, by investing effort. By staying vulnerable even when we're afraid. By reaching out to touch each other, emotionally and physically. By keeping the magic alive by looking your partner deep in the eyes and meeting them halfway in feeling. By taking a leap of faith.

What about when it stops feeling easy?

But what happens when the initial rose-tinted glow wears off? When you discover those little niggling things about each other that washed over you initially? After you have your first real argument? What happens when things get really hard, when you temporarily stop believing, but you still care about each other, still show up to support each other, still desire to be around and make it work?

Well that's true love my friend. And it's a decision as well as a feeling. It's much much more than just a feeling. Because a feeling can change. It's a decision to love that person wholly and without hesitation. 

With love always,

Karen xxx

Blog number 8: Benefit Burn-out

Arg, the endless thirty second loop of shrill classical blaring out from my phone, the repeated robot statements from the School of Let's State the Bleeding Obvious.

'All our operators are currently busy' (obvious).

'Please continue to hold, and an operator will answer you' (yes, I would assume so. Seems logical really).

'You may wish to call back later' (er, yes, I may. That's my decision really isn't it).

Baaah! I'm not calling for the joy of it or to kill time. I have a dozen more fun, interesting or pressing things to do, frankly. I'm calling because I have a genuinely important query about why I've not received my money, or because I'm trying to decypher another bullsh*t letter, or better still, three letters (all received on the same day, naturally – do they own shares in tree destruction or something) which make even less sense when they all contradict each other.

'Our opening times are...' Yes, thank you for informing me yet again! I have no short-term memory and have forgotten since the last announcement thirty seconds ago. Even with 'chemo brain' those opening times are indelibly burned into my memory.

As you may have guessed, I am writing this in real time whilst on hold, slowing losing my sanity. I thought it would be interesting and productive to plough my real time frustration into a blog and see how it pans out! See if it makes the call go faster. See if it helps me stay sane! See if it makes one person laugh or nod with recognition.

Funny, I get the feeling that whether I call up first thing in the morning or last thing during the day, the recorded message would be identical and there would still be 'nobody available to take my call.' EVER.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I never for one second imagined when I had my daughter eight years ago that I'd become a lone parent, nor did I imagine I'd have to stop my self employed work due to chronic illness and disease. The benefits system is there to help people who need help. Don't get me started on the underclass of people who have no intention of ever working for their money, or indeed teaching their children any kind of work ethic. They choose the benefits system as some kind of career choice. They're like an alien race to me.

My point is that the benefits system seems to be massively flawed, and getting worse. It appears to be in crisis. Whether it's because more people are claiming – who knows. I suspect red tape and nonsensical systems are the main obstacle to people getting what they're entitled to. I'm an intelligent person, but I cannot make head nor tail of a benefits letter. It's as if it's written in a deliberately obtuse way in order to confuse, baffle, and hence stop questions. I tend to scan over them, say 'Huh?' or even 'What the f***' before shoving it in a drawer with all the other thousands of trees' worth of letters.

Still waiting on hold, wanting to scream or at least hit my head rhythmically against something hard. Thirty one minutes of those crazy messages. Can't they vary them, vary the music, or at least space them further apart? I have a theory: they make the wait to speak to a human being so impossible, that 70% of possible claimants give up and either end up in the loony-bin, on drugs, or maybe resort to crime to make ends meet, as a more attractive option than waiting endlessly on hold for the rest of their lives, ending up as a dusty skeleton still clutching the phone in a bony hand.

What's worse is that whilst you're waiting for someone to answer, even if you're doing something else productive like writing a blog, you experience doubt and guilt as those minutes tick by. Well, I do anyway. I was always instilled with a work ethic. I was never a workaholic; but if I enjoyed a job I gave it my all and stuck with it. I gave good customer service and went above and beyond to help people. I feel guilt at my cancer, annoyance and frustration at my chronic fatigue and chemo side effects. This annoys me as I made a decision after my diagnosis and breakdown not to feel guilt any more; to realise I deserve a happy, stress-free life, and the money I'm rightfully entitled to to provide security for me and my family.

The phone lines close in twenty minutes. There must be a better way! This phone line has made me hate Vivaldi with a vengeance. This beautiful, vibrant piece of music is now such a trigger, that when my partner played it to me on his phone just now, I started spontaneously dribbling and had to resist the urge to smash my head against my laptop. I've become one of Pavlov's dogs. I'd rather have Pavlova clogs. I am actually losing the plot now.

Total hold time before the call was answered: sixty one minutes (a new record; wonder if I can get in the Guinness Book of Records for that). Time taken to actually sort the query, which wasn't even my fault; it was their mistake: around five minutes.

Here are my tips for dealing with benefit claims whilst keeping your sanity intact:

1. Don't. If you can help it.
2. Develop a really good sense of humour, or steal one from someone else.
3. Be productive whilst on hold. Fuel your frustrations into creative pursuits such as writing, knitting or painting. Or hitting your head against hard objects.
4. Do lots of deep breathing to stay calm and not get psychotic.
5. Play dumb on the phone. There's no point getting too frustrated or having long-winded debates, as this only stretches the whole painful process out longer and increases your stress. End the call as soon as you can, keep a log of names you've spoken to, then go do something FUN!

Ironically, this crazy-making system is creating more crackpots. If you're not insane by the time you need to claim benefits, you sure as hell will be by the end!

Love always (keep calm and beat the system)
Karen xxx