23 things I've learned

It's my birthday! So here's some of my life's lessons...

Hello!

I’m sorry this is late but… it’s been my birthday! I turned 38 on Friday and had the most special weekend doing so many wonderful things. We cycled 40 miles, from Brighton to Hastings (something I thought I would not enjoy… but really did) and stayed in a hippy’s Air BnB which was full of crystals and Buddhist teachings. We went on a jittery rollercoaster, drank pints at noon, wandered antique shops and I added to my collection of vintage postcards (I like the ones with the writing on the back) and even had food from my favourite take-away, which has shut down in London but has a branch in Hastings. Then, to top all of that off, I ended the weekend watching Pink perform a somersault over my head while singing.

I’ve also been working on a feature, all to do with self-awareness, and – as part of it – have had to go back through various things in my life, and figure out my life’s lessons from that. I definitely don’t have the whole self-awareness thing down yet (I’m not even sure it’s a true destination) but I have enjoyed thinking about my life, and the lessons I derived from it. So, because it’s my birthday I’m being very self indulgent and sharing 23 (my favourite number) of them below, life’s order…

ONE: A goat might eat your work.

When I was little, a goat broke into our cottage and ate my dad’s play. It’s one of these memories that, perhaps, my family might say has been implanted there, as the story has been told so many times over the years. That I didn’t actually see the goat. But I have an image, that almost floats at the back of my brain, of hiding behind my granddad’s footstool, while a goat roamed our living room. I don’t know where it managed to nab the play, pull it into its mouth, and chew my dad’s beautiful words into mush. But it did. This was in the days of typewriters so those scenes were digested and destroyed, lost to that goat’s stomach.

This story would lend itself perfectly to a ‘back up your work’ lesson and while yes that’s valuable advice I am continually confused by the cloud and have no right to preach. Instead, I am going to use it to say ‘perfectionism is the killer of creativity.’ I see it over and over, people being afraid to file their work, or put it out there (whatever it may be) as they want to spend hours and hours crafting it. Stop it, you’re ruining it! Yes, take care, re-read things (I’m speaking of writing here), put it in a different font so you can spot mistakes easier, even put it in a drawer (virtual or real, if real lock it in case a goat gets it) and please, if you’ve been given a word count, try to meet it.

But if you fuss over something too much, it almost gets messy in how neat it is. So… just put it out there. See what happens. After all, a goat might come along and eat it before you can. (on reflection the goat thing doesn’t really suit this lesson… but I’m going to include it anyway… done is better than perfect, after all.)

TWO: You have to face things.

I was standing at the bus stop when one of the most popular, and intimidating, girls from school sauntered over. “Katie, see tomorrow, I’m going to fucking batter you,” she said, while her friends, stood by, laughing. I went home and retreated under my Garfield sleeping bag. I didn’t want to tell anyone. Even back then I didn’t want to worry anyone, least of all my parents. But my mum coaxed it out of me, as I hiccup sobbed and declared “I can’t go to school tomorrow.” I thought she’d agree. Who would send their child to school to get beat up? But… that’s exactly what she did. She told me I had to face up to whatever was waiting for me, that if I didn’t go in this girl would think she’d won, that I could be played. That it would only get worse.

“Besides,” mum said. “At some point you have to go into school, you’ll have to face this. You can’t avoid it forever. One day, she’ll find you. It'll be easier if you do it straight away.” So, I went in. Sat at my desk, and I thought of my mum. I pulled my shoulders down and pretended I wasn’t afraid. The girl sauntered over, “Katie,” she said giggling. “You know all of that was just a laugh don’t you?” When I got home my mum burst into tears. She’d been so afraid she’d sent me in for a beating.

This isn’t advice as to how to beat bullies. It could have gone the other way. I could be telling you the story of how I got my first ever black eye. But, when I think of all of the years that followed, how often I’ve tried to run away from my grief, from pain, how it always circled back to find me, I think of what mum taught me about facing things. They find you. It’s easier if you face them sooner rather than later.

THREE: Bryan Adams is lying to you.

My mum used to sing in the kitchen. She’d hum while she worked. On holidays we’d blast out the Empire Records soundtrack scream singing ‘til I hear it from yooouuuu’ and, all the while, mum would teach us little life lessons. One of her main bugbears was Bryan Adams telling whoever it was he wrote that song about that “everything he did,” he did it for them. “Liar!” she’d say. “And even if that was true, you don’t want that.”

She told us that we should aim for relationships where we do things for each other yes, but also for ourselves. Where we’re independent. Take on opportunity and chances and holidays and adventure without our ‘other half’ (I don’t know how she feels about the term ‘other half’ but I think she’d hate it as much as I do.) I’ve been in a long-term relationship for 18 years now, and I do think that a huge part of our success is living our own lives. You can’t get everything you need from one person, that’s not only impossible but it’s also really boring. There’s so much out there to discover… and you need to explore it for yourself. (I wrote about this lesson in more detail here by the way)  

FOUR: Be the worst person in dance class

Up until I was 12 I was so active. Jazz, ballet, gymnastics, trampolining… I threw myself into hobbies and trying new things. But ballet was my constant. I’d twist the key at the back of my candy-pink jewellery box and watch the Polly Pocket size dancer twirl around and around. I’d tell people “I want to be a ballerina when I grow up.” The problem was… I was actually quite a crap dancer. Still am. I’m clumsy, don’t know my left from my right and (sadly this still seems to matter) chunky. One day, my teacher broke this to me. Told me I’d never make it as a professional dancer. I was mortified. I dropped out of ballet and all my other activities. I felt as if my joy made me a joke. I didn’t exercise again for over a decade.

Until, I got a job at a magazine that required me to try new fitness classes and review them. Forced out of professional obligation I began trying anything that was offered to me – I strapped on boots with massive springs on the bottom of them; I canoed along the Thames; my first spinning class was sat beside Victoria Pendleton while someone filmed me… I’d tell myself ‘it’s only 45 minutes of your life’ and ‘even athletes get out of breath.’ I discovered how much fun it is to throw yourself in, try something new and laugh when you fuck up.

Through trying all of those things I discovered the exercise I find more fun than other things (boxing, weights, reformer pilates) and the stuff I really don’t find fun (mostly being shouted at while rolling in the mud, oh and running). I still hold a lot of hang ups to do with fitness, from that experience (and PE horrors) and often have to remind myself of my achievements when facing a new challenge. I just wish that I could go back and tell 12-year-old me that anything you find joyful is worth pursuing, no matter how bad you are at it.

FIVE: Your Beanie Babies aren’t worth anything.

Yes, even with the tag protectors. Yes, even the Princess Diana one. But it was fun playing the Ty stock market for a while, so I guess in memories they really are worth something. (actually I think this would be a terrible lesson for a gambling addict to read…)

SIX: You might feel sick because you’re stressed

For a few years, during my childhood, I went to the doctor as I felt sick constantly. Each time, I was told there was nothing wrong with me. But there was. I was being bullied in school, and what I was feeling was both very real but also entirely created by my mind. I was sick with anxiety. I now know I hold my emotions in my stomach, and, as someone with a tendency to pretend everything is just fiiinnneee until my body literally tells me I am not, if I begin to feel sick for no reason I do try to take a look at what else is going on in my life and what I’m avoiding. Not always. Friends of mine now know this about me (shout out to Heather) and if I complain about feeling sick will gently remind me it could be an issue in my life. It’s hard alright, as sometimes I actually AM sick!

SEVEN: One day, you’ll laugh

When I was fourteen I was on a catamaran with my crush. The wind was in my hair, I think he even laughed at some of my jokes. Then… I went to jump off. I don’t know how it happened but… I got stuck. As in I was hanging, from a boat, by my bikini bottoms. The captain (do catamarans have captains?!) had to tear my bikini right down the back to free me, which meant I had to walk back to shore, my crush behind me (and now ignoring me) with my entire ass hanging out. To make the whole thing worse, a lot worse, all the other school trips got off their catamarans at the same time and began yelling “put your bum away, no one wants to see it.”

I went back to my tent (I don’t really know why this trip was camping and watersports but it just was) and I cried, very, very quietly into my pillow. Now? I just tell that story if I’m a bit bored by someone’s company at a party. I recently had to ask people what they thought my greatest strengths were (for that feature, not an ego boost) and my ability to laugh at myself came up a lot. It just makes things so much easier. A bit like that famous Nora Ephron quote “everything is copy” pretty much everything embarrassing can become a funny story and relief really can be found just dying laughing at yourself (even if no one else is joining in)

EIGHT: Let people be themselves.

Why would you not want someone you love to be happy? Why would you force someone to wear a body that doesn’t fit? When my dad came out as transgender it felt very simple: she’s not happy and this might make her happy. It also wasn’t my life, it was hers. I’d adjust and sometimes that might be tricky but it would be worth it. And you know what? It was. It really, really was.

(for more on this, I wrote about our relationship for Cosmo, found here)

NINE: Don’t lie about what you like

I don’t get embarrassed easily (see point seven) but something I did, almost twenty years ago, still makes me shudder a bit. A boy I liked really loved the Tom Cruise movie Cocktail and I told him (so he’d, OF COURSE, fall in love with me) that I did too. I’d never seen it. And, was quickly exposed with a casual stupid comment (I could go into it but it would provide spoilers for the movie, mind you can you *spoiler alert* a film that was released in 1988?!) I used to do this a lot. I worked in a theatre and would copy others opinions on the plays, I told my now-husband I loved drum n bass nights when really I was at my most comfortable doing Steps’ 5,6,7,8 (a dance I think is actually quite sexy… but that could be delusion) and generally hid a lot of the things I truly loved as I didn’t consider them ‘cool.’

In some ways, it was a good discovery process – by pretending I liked drum n bass I learned that I actually did enjoy those sweaty clubs, flinging my legs about… But there’s a difference between being open to try new things and fabricating your entire being based on what others like. Now I can see that so much of the basis of what’s ‘cool’ is down to what men deem ‘worthy’ and life’s so much more fun if you gravitate towards what you actually find fun, versus what you’ve been told to find fun.

TEN: Zip your tent up at festivals. Bring extra socks. Use them as trade. A bag of brioche actually makes quite an effective pillow. Try being filthy. It’s freeing.

ELEVEN: Optimism won’t save a life, but it might save you

My mum had an inoperable tumour, clinging wickedly to the roots of her brain. It ate away at her. She sat and she muttered to herself, sometimes confused, sometimes in rage. And I… really fucking appreciated that the J20s in the hospice cost just 50p. And she… filled her sink with bottles of Vinho Verde and wrapped herself in jewel-coloured shawls. She wheeled her way up to Christian Slater in a bar once, saying he had no choice but to speak to her (and me, mum wasn’t that fussed about him I don’t think) We were having a horrible time, the worst ever time, and we found joy within it.

Optimism can be sneered at. It’s confused for naivety. During that time I would lie on my mum’s chest and listen to her heart beating, knowing any minute it could stop. I’d listen to the revolving door of visitors say “oh she’s so upbeat, isn’t she” and I’d want to scream, spit flying into their face. I stood in an ambulance bay, awash in blue light, and called my crush listening to the phone ring out. I needed to tell him that we’d just turned off my mum’s life support.

I was not cheerful during that time. I was also not naive: I was being force fed how unfair life can be. But every day I focused on one piece of joy to pull me out of bed and into the present. Into her presence. Happiness was something I worked on every day and it still is. Learning that is probably one of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever been taught.

TWELVE: Love will hold you up

I find it hard to talk about romantic love. It’s so hard not to fall into cliches, and I also don’t like to perpetuate the idea that we need it (some of the greatest loves of my life have been my friends) but I met my husband three weeks before my mum died. On the outside I was this messy, buck-toothed ginger girl with a fondness for knitted baker hats and tying various scarves round my waist. I smiled a lot. On the inside I was crumbling. Boys weren’t so much into the crumbling side of me. But he was. Or maybe it’s not that he was into it, more that he knew it was a part of me. I asked him once why he didn’t run, once confronted with all that fragility and he replied, “I just knew I liked you so much we’d figure it all out.”

I think of him saying that often, when I’m reading about people conjuring excuses as to why they can’t be with someone, or why someone can’t be with them. I know I’m lucky, that the dating game today is vastly different, but I do believe that the right person will be strong enough to be by your side while you figure everything out.

Psst… for an alternative love story, consider buying my book

THIRTEEN: For good sex, celebrate yourself

I choose this for number thirteen as it’s not a very nice story. But so many of our lessons come from weird, shit times and this is one of them for me. When I was in a Rome campsite I got very, very drunk playing Circle Of Death (tip: don’t drink the mucky pint if it’s curdled, please) and I ended up in bed with a boy. I was fuzzy-headed, clumsy, confused and I began to cry half-way through, admonishing myself for “being bad in bed.” On reflection, he should have stopped having sex with me. Instead, he told me I had been good in bed, right up until the moment I began to doubt myself. And then he carried on.

I now don’t really believe in the concept of being ‘good’ or ‘bad’ in bed, instead it’s about finding people you feel comfortable and fit with. But what I should have taken from that experience is that the sex was bad because I wasn’t enjoying it, but I’d been so focused on the conditioning that the man’s sexual experience was paramount that I totally missed this. Women have been taught for so long to hide our desires, our wants, our needs, our pleasure and I wish I’d known earlier that tuning into them, voicing them (though not easy) and celebrating them is key to excellent sex. (I go into this in more detail here, in this Cosmo article, sex for the story)

FOURTEEN: If you have a pair of tights that always fall down, put a pair of pants on top of them. If they still cause you grief AS SOON as you get home, put them in the bin. Don’t let them get back into the tights cycle.

FIFTEEN: You don’t have to talk about mortgages

Seriously. It’s like at a certain age everyone decides that they’re going to be play grown-up and discuss mind-numbingly boring shit like mortgages, their Keto diet and how ‘god can you imagine clubbing these days? My knees would go in.’ If you like talking about mortgages, Keto and staying in, go for it. But don’t feel as if talking about them makes you seem older or wiser. It doesn’t. People are just bored. I think you’re bored of yourself! In fact I’m sure I once read a study that said that thinking you’re “sooooo ollldd” actually shaves years off of your life. Try talking about something (anything) else and see what happens.

SIXTEEN: VIP is just Dean Gaffney in a corner

Grace Dent said something of this effect in a column once, and I’ve quoted it ever since. I used to be obsessed with getting into the most exclusive area of a party, I imagined being funny and charming and befriending celebrities. It just doesn’t happen. There’s more fun people out of the area (particularly as some VIP areas also have people who have paid to be there, so they’re just rich and snobby, you’re lucky with DG) and celebrities can be alright, but it’s never, say Pink in there, and even if it was, your friends are better company. But… saying all of that, if there is free drinks or food in said area, you should probably still try to get in.

SEVENTEEN: Don’t stick strange things up your nose

When I was a child I decided it would be really fun to stick a bead up my nose. I can distinctly remember telling my mum that it was because “I wanted to see what I’d look like with my nose pierced.” This was a lie. The real reason I did it was because I wanted to see what would happen. I ended up in A&E with a nurse, hooking the damn thing out as it was stuck. This lesson can be applied to other scenarios… but I’ll let you figure them out.

EIGHTEEN: You’re on a different path, you’ve not failed

Around the time everyone starts talking about mortgages (it’s usually around 29/30… the most boring ages I’ve found, despite the big parties) a creeping fear can settle in. Engagement rings sparkle under your nose, baby scan pics arrive in your feed (surprising you as just a few months ago that person was in a Lycra jumpsuit bumping ketamine off of a key) and deposits are placed down on houses.

If you don’t have these things and want them, it can feel incredibly lonely. If you don’t have these things and don’t want them, it can also feel incredibly lonely. We’ve been conditioned into thinking that certain things make our lives a success, we hate uncertainly so we want to live a life of check-lists. But nothing is certain. I’ve seen very unhappy people with all of the things we’re told to want, and seen very happy people with none of them. Try to dig beyond what you think you want, looking beyond what’s expected.

If you still want it, then great, go for it – but maybe approach it in a different way to how you think it should go and let time do its thing. I really do believe that what’s meant for you won’t pass you by and I’ve seen this play out in my own life, and that of my friends’. Don’t panic, it’s going to be OK.

NINETEEN: If you’re feeling anxious, record all of those thoughts into a voicenote. Or, if you’re near the sea, go throw rocks into it, yelling your anger into the wind.

TWENTY: Don’t get whipped up into a frenzy

Anger travels faster on the internet than any other emotion. It’s very, very easy to get caught up and full of rage and forget that almost every situation has nuance, and behind every seemingly stupid/ignorant comment is a person. Take a breath, a walk, let your heart go back into your chest, fact-check any claims made and, if you’re still mad, write a structured response (you could even leave it overnight and post it the next day) but also know that, not every situation needs your perspective. It’s OK to leave things. It doesn’t make you look stupid.

TWENTY ONE: Clothes are meant to be fun

For a while they almost got me. I gained some weight, found clothes shopping and finding things that fit harder and harder and obsessed over my stomach showing in outfits. I settled for a life of fit-and-flare dresses, in plain colours. Then I realised that it’s much better to wear something fun, crazy or silly than wear something boring and uncomfortable just because it makes me look thin. Diet culture has been sewn into your jeans. Remember that, and also… everyone looks their nicest when they’re smiling.

(for more on my style journey, writing this article and working with stylist Amy Bannerman changed everything)

TWENTY TWO: Be as excited as a teenage girl seeing Harry Styles in concert

All the feathers all over London reminded me of something. Harry Styles was playing Wembley and all his fans wrapped themselves in feather boas and screamed their happy, loving hearts out. That’s an infectious energy, just loving something so much and being right there in that moment, connected to a tiny dot on stage. I’ve watched people lose that as they get older, people begin to think it’s cool to be bored, and it’s uncool to like popular stuff.

When I was a teenager my friends and I were so fucking ridiculous. We dressed up as potatoes for a party, and served all different types of potatoes (mashed/crisps/roasted etc). We spent hours crafting each other notes, doodling and saying how much we loved each other. We were passionately silly and unashamed of it. Thankfully, we’ve remained that way – when we’re together we’ll chuck ourselves down water slides, play ‘guess the kitchen appliance’ game (where you have to pretend to be, say, a toaster) and generally just laugh so, so much. The older I get the more I want to tune into my passions and silliness and shake off all expectation of who I should be, and I’m so lucky to have friends who will never tell me to ‘grow up.’

TWENTY THREE: Just follow what you find fun.

I wanted to just end this on that line. But then I worried you might fall into the same trap that I have in the past – where you confuse what we’re told is fun, with what we find fun. I used to think having fun was staying out all night, endless parties and meeting new people. And I do find those things fun. But I also find dead-lifting heavy weights to the Spice Girls fun. Sitting in my window seat reading a thriller fun. Doing my job and interviewing interesting people fun. I just find it’s a much easier emotion to tune into than happiness, or joy, but that the more you pursue fun, the happiness then follows. I’d say almost every single piece of advice I’ve given has an element of me finding the fun within a situation, and following it.

Anyway, I’ve found writing this FUN! I’d love it if you could let me know your life lessons below!