Setting Boundaries

I recently went through a break up, absolutely no craic, would not recommend it. They’re never fun, of course, but they are a great opportunity for growth. I mean, it doesn’t feel that way at the time. It’s horrible, uncomfortable and confusing while you’re going through it, but with a little time and reflection it can give insight and provide a chance to learn about yourself on a different level. If you can put all the hurt and painful emotion to side for a moment that is. Easier said than done, I know.

Before my most recent relationship I had been single for 18 months. I actively spent that trying to re-learn myself, as I mention in my first blog post. I tried to figure out my hobbies and interests, I went on trips, I worked on my mental health and I consciously avoided relationships. I went on plenty of dates and had casual “relations” with a few guys during this time but always stopped short of letting them become serious. I didn’t feel ready. How could I be in a serious relationship with someone when I wasn’t sure how I felt about myself or what I wanted? That felt like a sure fire way of losing myself again, I’d be more inclined to take on their interests, opinions and beliefs if I hadn’t fully developed my own yet. How wise and wonderful I was.

I reached a point where I felt I had learned enough about myself to re-enter the relationship world. I had a friend with whom I shared a lovely, genuine connection, we knew each other well, I was already pretty certain of how I felt about him and was feeling more comfortable in my own skin. It seemed we felt the same way about each other and decided to give it a go. The thing that I didn’t really take into account is, no matter how well you know yourself, you naturally tend to change when you welcome a new person into your life. They are important to you, their opinions and feelings matter and so some of your behaviours may adjust accordingly. So how do you navigate relationships without losing yourself, without changing things that are important to you but would compromise the relationship?

Being in love with someone is one of the richest, most rewarding experiences you can have in life. It can also be incredibly difficult and confusing. I loved this person so much that nearly everything I had spent 18 months learning went straight out the window. I forgot about myself and how much I had grown to love myself during that time. It can be natural for this to happen, I don’t need to feel bad about it, I just need to learn from it. I allowed my love for this person, and my fear of losing them, cloud my judgement and decision making. I stopped listening to myself and I forgot to love myself first. I let my boundaries be crossed and I didn’t speak up until it was too late. We were too far gone, habits had been built and I didn’t know how to break them. By the time I finally learned I needed to set my boundaries it was too much, too much damage had been done. Had I set my boundaries properly in the first place one of two things would have happened. Either the relationship would have broken down faster as we learned that we just wanted very different things out of life or we would have learned about each other in a more honest and up front manner and could have grown together as a couple and as individuals.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda, and all that jazz. I can beat myself up over this, sit thinking about the things I could have done differently but that really wouldn’t make any sense. The way it played out is the way it played out and all I can do now is add it to my list of life lessons I chose to learn in an unnecessarily difficult way. But this is a lesson that has proved really important for my own self growth and one that I can apply to every area of my life. I can make better decisions and have richer relationships across the board. I know now that it is important, not just for myself but for the other people in my life, that I say how I feel and what I want, honestly, even if it’s not necessarily what they’re going to want to hear or even if it’s just to say “I don’t know, I need time to think about this”. It’s easy to try to place blame when a relationship ends, to list all the things they did that hurt you or make excuses for why you acted the way you did, but it’s important to take responsibility for your own part. In fact that’s all you can really do if you want learn from the experience.

After the break up we had to live together for a while. It was mostly fine, we were mature about it, there was still love there and we didn’t want to lose the friendship we had had before the relationship. It was awkward and uncomfortable at times and my mind was so noisy with thoughts, trying to figure out how I felt about it all. One thing that made it easier for me was to finally set my boundaries. Only doing things that I was happy and comfortable to do, saying no when I needed to, offering my help when I was happy to not because I felt obliged to.  Sometimes I had to talk myself out of offering help or spending time together when I knew it was better for me not to. Naturally I began to feel better about myself and the decisions I was making.  I noticed that before acting on a feeling I would sit with it for a while and examine why I was doing what I was doing.  I would ask myself how I would feel about it later, would I be comfortable with my decision or would it be a new thing I would have to try turn into a life lesson?  I still regularly end up making the decision that leads to a lesson rather than a pat on the back for myself, but hey, I’m learning.

Since learning to set my boundaries so much has changed, mostly my perspective on life. I have found liberation in learning to say no and be true to myself. I have been invited to things or asked for things and had that moment of anxiety where I feel obliged to say yes to make the other person happy but I know that it’s not something I actually want to do. I have learned to listen to my body and take my time before answering. I have learned to give myself permission to say no if I need to. It gets easier with practice. Sometimes I can feel the answer physically in my chest or stomach, either a tightness or an opening that tells me all I need to know. I have had to really force myself at times to say no, to override that tendency to try please other people. The results have been surprising. No one has fallen out with me or responded angrily. Mostly my honesty has been met with respect and gratitude. In giving myself permission to set my boundaries and say no when I need to or ask for things that I need, I have found many of my relationships have improved and I feel better about myself.  Time after time it becomes clearer to me that what appear to be the most trying times in my life are often the times that provide the most valuable lessons, and as I learn to listen to myself more, those times become easier to navigate.

 

 

 

 

Wonder Weeks

When I was pregnant on my daughter I spent the months researching everything to do with pregnancy and labor. I went to pregnancy yoga classes, I met a doula for prenatal classes, I read every book and article I could get my hands on. I binged One Born Every Minute, I wanted all the gory information. I was a pregnancy and labor expert. I mostly enjoyed my pregnancy despite being sick, nauseous, and having migraine for pretty much the whole nine months. My labor didn’t go as planned but I had a wonderful experience that I’m really grateful for. And I had my beautiful, healthy baby girl in my arms…

I had this baby in my arms. What was I supposed to do with her? How on earth had I spent 9 months researching pregnancy and labor and not thought to look into what I do when the baby gets here? I had worked in childcare for over 5 years so I guess I naively thought I knew it all already. I did not know it all. When we were leaving the hospital with her I kept looking over my shoulder thinking, surely someone is going to realise I’ve left with this baby despite not being in anyway qualified to care for it. A few days later at home, I rang my mam sobbing. I told her I had no idea how to care for a baby and I didn’t know what to do with her. My mam was getting all worried and asked where the baby was, I said she’s asleep in her pram. My mam asked if she was fed and changed, I said yes of course. She asked what the problem was then, I said I don’t know what to do when she wakes up. She said, you feed her and change her, cuddle her and put her back to sleep. Makes sense, I can handle that. My point is, I wasn’t prepared at all, even though it was manageable, the whole thing was just incredibly overwhelming.

I thought back to when we left the doctors surgery after he confirmed I was indeed pregnant. Her dad was in shock and I was just thinking, holy shit, there is an actual thing inside me that no matter what, will have to come out of my body. It was in there now, no matter what I did my body was going to grow it, and no matter what the circumstances, my body was going to birth it. The only thing I could do was accept it and start looking at ways to become more comfortable with the idea. So I began researching. It was difficult and scary, all the things that could go wrong, the pain even if things were going right, all the opposing views, all the changes my body was going to go through. But here I  was now with the baby, I had done it all, got through it all, mostly enjoyed it even. So now I just had to do it again, accept my situation again, how difficult and uncomfortable it was, and I had to put things in place to make it more manageable or comfortable. I got myself a whole new selection of books and articles to pour through, found what I felt would work for me and my baby and started putting it into practice. By three weeks old she was sleeping through the night, success.

Here’s the problem though, babies are constantly changing at a very rapid rate. Their bodies are growing, their brains are growing, they are constantly developing and learning. I couldn’t just read one book and have all the answers. I would have to continually learn and research and change things up as she developed. One of the tools I had found became a godsend to me. It was the Wonder Weeks app. You fill in all the relevant info about your baby and it tells you approximately when they are going to go through a developmental milestone, how to recognise the changes, how to handle them and what to expect. It wasn’t always spot on but for us, it was pretty close every time. It was unbelievable how often she was going through these changes and how, when you knew what to look for, you could prepare and be ready and handle the difficult period with more understanding. Why couldn’t I have a Wonder Weeks app for my life?!

I’m serious though, that’s actually where I’m going with this long rambley post. Does anybody feel like they’ve stopped going through developmental milestones? The first few paragraphs of this post describe exactly that, me reaching two new developmental milestones. At first I felt uncomfortable and overwhelmed and I can guarantee I was no joy to be around (like the fussy crying baby entering the changing phase). Then I had to start learning and be patient with myself as I developed my womanly skills (pregnancy and labor) and my motherly skills and tested them out. Once I was comfortable I was able to appreciate that I had grown and learned and could now cope with my new more difficult environment. I could be somewhat more relaxed until I reached my next challenge or milestone. Tell me this is not the exact same thing that the babies are doing! Here is a quote from the Wonder Weeks website that I could apply to my life over and over again, “Babies cry during a leap because they’ve reached a radical new step in their mental development. That is good: it gives them the opportunity to learn new things. The “difficult” behavior is actually a signal that great progress is underway.” That is beautiful.

Imagine we could all apply this to our lives and to the people in our lives. Imagine the compassion you would feel for a teen acting out when you think of them as that fussy, crying baby trying to find their way, learn a new skill and apply it. At least the baby has people there guiding it, doing everything for it and cooing and smiling at it the whole time. The teenager doesn’t have that. You don’t do that to yourself when you’re going through a bout of depression. You don’t do that for your partner when they’re having a particularly difficult time in work or with family. And all we’re really doing at these difficult times is entering a new phase, reaching a new milestone. Here’s a new problem in my life that is too big and overwhelming for me to handle right now, I need to learn new skills to cope and I need to be gentle with myself. But we don’t look at it like that. You reach teenage years and adult life and you start to hear stuff like “you should know better”, “you should have this figured out at this stage of your life”. But should we? Life is constantly changing, and we as people change constantly over the course of our lives so why should we have it all figured out? How could we know better?

Ok, we’re not babies and our processing skills are much better now as adults, we have much more life experience behind us but still an infinite amount of learning lies ahead of us. And the problems become more complex as we grow. And we lose our guides as we get older, no one is holding our hand and cooing at us. Oh man, I really wish someone would hold my hand and coo at me! So let’s develop our own wonder weeks for ourselves, or maybe wonder years since our growth spurts are probably going to take longer to recognise and figure out. Why don’t we be compassionate and loving towards ourselves during the difficult times when we are growing and learning new skills? Why don’t we be compassionate and loving towards others when we can see they are going through growth and change. We’ve all been through it so we could try to empathise and be patient with one another.  I myself feel I am currently going through a wonder year. It feels huge and terrifying and overwhelming. I am being patient and compassionate with myself, everything isn’t as I want it to be but it is as it should be. I’m at a milestone now and I’m learning and I’m giving myself all that love I give to Zoe at every step of her development. Change is exciting when we apply our tools we’ve been honing all our life. I’m off to coo at myself in the mirror! Namaste.

My Guilty Pleasure.

I’ve never been one to binge watch TV shows, I’m not even that into movies and given the choice between watching a video clip or reading an article I’d always choose the article.  I put it down to a mix between having a short attention span and processing information better in written form than visually.  I even like to watch TV with the subtitles on.  This isn’t to say that I haven’t binge watched some shows or that I don’t like TV, I do, it’s just rare that I really get absorbed in a show.  I try to get on the bandwagons but usually fall off pretty quickly.  I managed to get through all of Game of Thrones with the encouragement from family and friends and I love it now but I’d find it hard to recommend it to anyone because I really had to drag myself through the first 4 seasons.  Since moving in with my boyfriend, an avid TV watcher, I have recently binge watched many shows, all from the 90s and 00s, and generally as a break from Spanish TV.  We have watched Mad About You, Seinfeld, The Sopranos, Curb Your Enthusiasm and we’ve just started Breaking Bad.  Out of all of them the only one I really engaged with was the Sopranos, which was fantastic. The rest were just background viewing for me but at least they were lighthearted and funny.

If there’s one genre I can’t stand it’s the Romance/Drama genre, think Grey’s Anatomy and the like.  I watched my fair share of them as a teenager, The OC, One Tree Hill etc. but even then I hated all the unnecessary drama all the characters go through and I grew out of them quick enough.  Well sort of.  See, I have a guilty pleasure and it’s one of these shows.  Oh man, it’s a terrible show, full of the most ridiculous dramatic scenarios and romantic plot lines.  It’s genuinely a guilty pleasure, I question myself every time I watch it but really look forward to it each week.  I don’t know how I’ve gotten sucked into it, I don’t know anyone else that watches it (except my step-dad, somehow I roped him in) and I can’t even remember how I heard about it.  Not even my mam or sister will entertain this shit, and they watch some questionable shows in my opinion.

The show is called Scandal.  And I love it.  I can’t get enough of this show.  It’s terrible.  It’s set in Washington DC and is about Olivia Pope, a white house aide who has her own crisis management firm.  Different high profile clients will come to her each week with some problem that needs fixing.  Usually some type of murder or missing persons case or fraud or blackmail, actually all of these topics are rife through all 7 seasons, and Olivia’s job is to fix them, along with any trouble in the white house.  So you can imagine the drama that goes down in this show, you can’t tell from one episode to the next who the villain is, who is going to go over to the dark side next, they all seem to take turns.  So, anyway, I’ve been calling it terrible and a guilty pleasure and out of the norm for me, so why do I watch it? What has me hooked on it?  Why do I look forward to it each week and devour each episode like I would a good book?  Every week it stirs emotions in me and I’m ashamed to say elicits a tear from me every now and again.

So, today I watched the latest episode from last week and something resonated with me so I thought now might be a good time to explore the answers to some of the above questions.  The one thing that I knew I loved about the show right from the beginning was that it had strong female characters.  Olivia is, for the most part, confident, poised, articulate and independent.  She is also very flawed, you couldn’t watch the show and say you love her or think she’s a great person.  Abby, one of her associates at her firm, is also a strong character who, with Olivia’s help, managed to escape a violent marriage and become an independent, self-sufficient woman. There’s Quinn whose character we get to see develop and grow over the 7 seasons as she tries to figure out where she fits in.  And then there is Mellie whose character starts off as vapid and shallow but reveals depth and strength as the seasons go by.  Now, this is an extremely overly simplistic breakdown of these characters.  They’re all flawed and pretty terrible people, I couldn’t say I particularly like any of them.  That said, it is refreshing to see women play roles where despite them having love interests and fawning over men we get to see other aspects of their personalities.  We get to see them be dark and twisted, strong and independent, vulnerable and sexy, and struggling with their love lives.  They’re not princesses in a fairy tale and I appreciate that because neither am I.

In this latest episode (I would stick a SPOILER ALERT warning in here but no one reads this blog and no one I know watches this show so…) Abby freaks out because she thinks her partner, David, is going to propose to her and, while she does love him, marriage is not something that interests her.  She’s considering ending the whole relationship because of this but in the end David shows that he knows her well enough to know that a proposal is a sure fire way of losing her.  I loved this.  I loved that she didn’t want to get married and I loved that he understood her, even if the whole scene was cheesy as fuck.  But I think it’s rare  to come across women characters that aspire to have a relationship that suits them rather than what society has told them they should want.  There are no rules or one-size-fits-all to relationships.  Olivia for her part, bounces back and forth between two lovers and while that story line is incredibly frustrating it’s also refreshing to see the nuances of attraction and love lives.  You can have connections with many different people, on different levels and for different reasons, it’s not always going to be easy to make decisions and, regularly, people will fuck up and maybe hurt you or you them.  So, obviously, one of my answers is that I relate to some of these characters on some level, perhaps it makes me feel like there are people out there who are just as fucked up as me, who are trying to figure it out too, all be it in the most dramatised, over the top fashion.

A couple of weeks ago there was a special episode with a cross over from another show called How To Get Away With Murder.  I had never heard of this show and still know next to nothing about it beside the fact that it has a strong, black, female lead character like Scandal.  In the crossover episode we get to see two strong, black, eternally flawed women butt heads with one another.  I was surprised by the interactions between these characters, I was expecting camaraderie and girly bonding, two ambitious women fighting against adversity.  The fact that I was expecting that only says something about me, or perhaps the shows I have watched in the past, I guess, but these two big characters clashed just the way they would in real life.  Women don’t meet other women and like them just because they’re also a woman, same for black people.  Life is not so straight forward.

There is one last stupid thing that I love about this show.   I’m Irish, but my paternal grandfather (who I have never met and know very little about) is African.  I don’t look Irish and growing up I remember watching shows or reading books or being a fan of bands and always looking out for the darkest skinned/haired girl and she would be my favorite.  Naturally I was a huge Destiny’s Child fan but surprisingly Ginger Spice was my favorite spice girl not Scary, though that could be down to the fact that I always had to be Scary Spice by default when all the girls got together to dress up as the Spice Girls.  Anyway, being a dark skinned girl in a primarily white country (I’m talking 90s Ireland here) definitely shaped my character somewhat and often left me feeling a little different or left out.  I regularly got positive or negative attention because of the colour of my skin and I didn’t really know anyone that could relate to this.  And so I love Scandal.  It’s shit and cheesy as fuck but it’s got a strong, independent, fucked up, dark skinned lead character who loves her own company, isn’t afraid of her sexuality, can be a total selfish asshole and her favorite chill out time is popcorn and wine.  Swap that wine for weed and I could be talking about myself.

So, maybe there are many shows that provide a better version of the things I’ve mentioned above and I just haven’t come across them because, as I say, I’m not big into TV, but these are some of the reasons I keep coming back to this show.  It’s giving me things I haven’t gotten from other shows and appeals to that most human desire in me, to feel understood and not alone.  Mystery solved.

 

 

Mother’s Day

Between International Women’s day on Thursday and Mother’s Day today, it’s been quite  the week for women.  I hate the constant need to draw comparisons between the genders, yes we’re different, we think differently and have different strengths and weaknesses but at the end of the day we are all just people.  Having said this, there is one way in which we differ that I find really difficult to process sometimes, that is, growing and birthing children.  Of course men have their part to play but our experiences of the whole process are worlds apart.

I recently had a, ahem, discussion with my boyfriend about a topic that is pretty hot back in Ireland at the moment, the Repealing of the 8th amendment.  The 8th amendment in the Irish constitution currently means that a fetus is given an equal right to life as the woman in which it is growing.  Now this post isn’t about the 8th amendment so I’m not going to go on about it too much, but I read a post by a woman whose doctor tried to bring her to court to force her to have a C-section against her will as this was what was best for the baby in his professional opinion.  This story really ignited something within me that I didn’t know was there, or that I at least had never fully acknowledged.  I appreciate that doctors are trained professionals and typically they will know what’s best for their patients but this story horrified me.  This woman had had 3 C-sections already and wanted to try to go into labor naturally.  She knew it would be unlikely that she would be able to birth naturally but she wanted to try and should the need arise, she would then opt for a C-section.  Without even notifying her, her doctor went to the courts to plead with a judge to have her restrained and a C-section forced upon her.

This story disturbed me and I began to discuss it with my boyfriend.  He wasn’t nearly as bothered by it as I was.  To cut a long story short his response was that doctors know best and it was implied that the woman should have just done as she was told if she wanted the best for the baby.  A completely reasonable response, I guess.  I knew it was a reasonable response as we were having the discussion, but inside me something was burning.  I myself did everything I was told by the doctors during my pregnancy and labor, things that went against my birthing plan, things that made me feel like a piece of meat or an object rather than a person, things that went against my natural instinct as a woman whose body was designed to grow and birth a baby.  I did as I was told because I wanted what was best for my baby and I put my needs and feelings and my physical body to the side.  And during the conversation I realised that this wasn’t something my boyfriend would ever have to do in any sense.  His autonomy wouldn’t be under threat should we decide to procreate.  No one was ever going to force him to have a surgery he didn’t want.  Should his appendix burst and he need life saving surgery, there is no law to force him to stay in hospital and have surgery.  As a fully compos mentis person he can sign himself out of hospital and go home.  He would never be kept on life support with no hope only to grow the fetus inside his body.  He would never die because his doctor, his government, his country valued a thing growing inside his body more than he himself even though this thing could not survive without his body to grow it.  Naturally he didn’t feel the same as I did after hearing this story.

I was quietly filling with misplaced anger, along with an unreasonable level of anxiety for a casual conversation with my boyfriend.  I was imagining myself as that woman, my doctor not only not listening to my wants and fears but going to the courts to force me to do something against my will.  And in my imaginings my boyfriend was standing alongside the doctor telling me to do as I’m told.  None of it was real and it was a very unnecessary train of thought that did nothing to calm my anxiety, of course.  But if you play along for the moment, imagine yourself in that situation.  No one cares about you, about what you want for your body (and your baby), what you as a mother think is best.  If your wishes go against doctors orders you’re considered naive, negligent even, you wont just suck it up and do what’s best for your baby.  And the whole time all you want is what’s best for your baby, but also for you.  We are considered too hormonal or too emotional or even hysterical.  But of course we are all those things.  You would be too if someone wanted to take away your autonomy, if you were going through one of the biggest changes in life and no one wanted to listen to you.  When you’re crazy stressed or angry or running high on any emotion and someone tells you to calm down, relax, just do as you’re told, does it ever work?  No.  You know what works, listening to women, acknowledging their wants and fears, letting them feel like they have a say in what goes on with their own bodies.

This is one teeny tiny aspect of the 8th amendment.  I wouldn’t have the heart to delve any further into the discussion.  As a woman who has had a baby and an abortion, it’s just too raw for me, and this post isn’t about that anyway.  What is this post about?  I can’t remember.  Women?  Mothers?  People?  Just my inner ramblings, I suppose.  Is there a message I would hope a reader would leave with?  To the men, go home and hug your mamas, your wives, your girlfriends, your female friends who have been through it or will go through or choose to never go through it or have the choice taken away from them completely.  To the women, support each other, raise each other up, don’t judge.  Our experiences are our own and just because you don’t understand someone else’s position does not mean they’re wrong, this goes for men’s experiences of bringing babies into the world too, which is very nuanced I’m sure.  If we just start by listening to one another and trying to understand each other things might be a little easier.

Why Barcelona?

My blog is called Bekah Barcelona, I didn’t think too much about it at all, it said to enter a title and that’s what came out.  I mean, I didn’t just pick my name and a random city, I currently live in Barcelona.  Technically speaking, I’m doing my Erasmus year here before I go into my final year of my degree back in Ireland.  Realistically, there’s not much studying going on here right now but that’s a different story altogether.  How I came to be studying in Barcelona in the first place is today’s story.

I had ruled out the possibility of doing an Erasmus at all when I became a single mother during my second year of my degree.  It just wouldn’t be feasible, what would my 4-year-old do while I studied, would her Dad be OK with it, how would I cope financially?  It was overwhelming to even think about.  The problem was that in order to continue studying Spanish as part of my degree I’d have to spend some time living in Spain.  So I came to terms with the fact that I’d just have to do a single honors degree in Mathematics, my other subject.

Becoming a single Mam was more difficult than I naively thought it would be and, for the sake of my mental health, I decided to drop out of college and take some time for myself and my daughter to adjust to our new life.  College could wait.  This turned out to be one of my better ideas.  I had a lot to learn about myself, a new identity to form.  I had to learn how to see myself as a woman, not just a partner and mother.  It was strange to realise that I never really thought of myself as a separate entity to those two things.  That was my whole identity, “wife”, mother, college student.  Of course, I was still a mother and a college student but now college was on hold for 9 months and for half of the week my daughter was with her Dad.  All of a sudden I had all this time where I was just me.  Nobody to cook or clean for, no college assignments to do.   Who was I when I had no obligations?

Another startling realisation was that, as a single woman, I was now somewhat attractive to the opposite sex.  The idea of this had never even entered my head.  I had been in a relationship and had a kid, I imagined I was invisible to men.  Also, after a separation, perhaps my self-esteem was shot and I just didn’t think anyone would be interested in me.  Well, I was wrong, and this was a new aspect of my identity I would have to learn.  The dating world is a strange place nowadays, I came across some very interesting people during my 18 months of single life.  One of those people happened to be a man from Barcelona.  We met on a dating app but agreed to meet platonically for a language exchange.  I’d help him with his English, he would help me with my Spanish.  In reality my Spanish as so bad that we really only spoke in English, or at least only understood one another in English.  I’m ashamed to say that not much has changed since then.

During my meetings with Xavier the Barcelonian, he would speak so fondly of his city.  He would well up when talking about how much he missed it and his family.  He talked of all the amazing things to do, the warm atmosphere with everyone greeting each other with hugs and kisses, the beautiful landscape.  This dude was passionate about his city, it was sweet.  I couldn’t say I felt the same about Dublin, no disrespect to my fair city.  I decided I had to go see what this guy was talking about, what made Barcelona so special, how are other people living?  I booked a trip for myself to a Spanish school in Barcelona city, flying solo.

If there was one thing I could recommend to anyone doing a bit of soul-searching, it would be to travel alone.  It was quite a liberating experience, nobody else to worry about pleasing or entertaining.  If I wanted to spend the whole week lying in bed, even though I’m on holidays, I could.  There was no one to impress and no one to judge.  However, this wouldn’t be an issue because, Xavi wasn’t lying, Barcelona was an amazing city, there was so much to see and do.  It also appeared to be impossible not to make friends, everyone is so warm and welcoming.  I met some really cool people and got invited along to some cool places.  Including Xavi bringing me on a motorcycle tour of the city since he was visiting family at the same time.  I also got to ring in the new year at the magic fountain with fireworks, grapes, cava and some lovely new friends from all over the world.  I couldn’t believe people got to live like this, clear blue skies in December, legal weed, rich culture.  I decided I was being too hasty writing off the chance of doing my Erasmus year.  Sure there were obstacles but I could at least attempt to address them.

First step was to try get my daughter’s Dad on board.  We have a good relationship and I wouldn’t be able to do this if he didn’t agree.  Eventually, he began to consider it, the company he worked with had offices in, how fortunate, Barcelona!  I would have happily went anywhere in Spain to study, I’m sure there are many more cities with as rich a culture as Barcelona, but I can’t say I was put out that Barcelona was where I’d have to do my Erasmus if I was going to do it at all.  Next step was to arrange school for my daughter, easily done, it just required a little trip to Barcelona to find the right school.  An absolutely necessary trip to Barcelona, I got no joy from it at all.  Then I solved all my financial problems by listing to myself the little bits of money I’d have available to me and just waving my hands about a bit when I talked about it.  Sorted.

It wasn’t at all easy to get here,  there were a lot of times it looked like it just couldn’t happen and times where I thought maybe I wouldn’t be able for it and didn’t want to go at all. But I’m glad I powered through.  The process of getting here, coupled with the experience of being here has certainly changed me as a person.  This is why Barcelona.