Archives for the month of: December, 2015


I was going to write a big evaluation of the last 12 weeks of my life but it just isn’t happening so instead, there’s this. The class I’ve been training with for the last 3 months found out this week that we’d all passed the course. Although stoked, we are also tired. We heard today that there are some in the other three classes who haven’t made it to the end, which is sad but to me makes it more of an achievement.

We had a morning of essentially learning about bombs, how they have and will be used in the future, firearms and other large scale incidents and how we might handle those situations and what will kill us if we get it wrong / are unlucky.

This afternoon, I was riding in a windowless van to do a little traffic practice with the rest of the class. On the way out it was raucous – no trainers in the van, just our class with May driving – when Mariah Carey came on the radio, we turned it up and sang All I Want For Christmas about as loud as we could. There was more shouting than singing but it was spot on.

On the way back this came on the radio. At first I couldn’t work out what it was and then it fell into place. So we sang some Bowie.  

For some people in that van that course was the hardest thing they’ve done. I know my own personal heroes and I wouldn’t be so audacious to say any of us are anything close, but most people who have done their thirty years have ticked a few heroic things off in that time and I’m looking forward to seeing what my friends achieve. 

 It’s going to be fun, it’s going to be dark, and the weight of that is not lost on me.

 

“Instead of things I’m good at, it might be faster to list the things I can’t do. I can’t cook or clean the house. My room’s a mess, and I’m always losing things. I love music, but I can’t sing a note. I’m clumsy and can barely sew a stitch. My sense of direction is the pits, and I can’t tell left from right half the time. When I get angry, I tend to break things. Plates and pencils, alarm clocks. Later on I regret it, but at the time I can’t help myself. I have no money in the bank. I’m bashful for no reason, and I have hardly any friends to speak of.”

Written on 15.11.2015:

On Friday the media chose to bring to our attention an abhorrent act of terror. I thought a lot and the severity of the incident in relation to the big picture was not lost on me. Having taken this into account and digested it with other kindred events of the past decade, it reiterated to me how delicate our existence here is.

Due to wearing a uniform in my job and being out the public, along with the other risks, I am at a heightened risk of being a target for this sort of incident due to the role I’m in. I’m in a relationship with a doctor. He too, in my opinion, is at relatively substantial risk, due to working in a hospital in a city which has already been a target for people who want to harm a lot of people at once. What if something were to happen to either one of us? I know this is a bit dramatic. I’m not usually one to sensationalise – I like to keep my feet on the ground in the real world, but this is a risk that we do face.

Not overtly connected but pertinent to my small existence is the fact that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with the Doctor. And just like that, perhaps accelerated by the current perceived threat, I must tell him.

I like to think I’m a fairly courageous person but I haven’t been able to find my tongue when trying to explain that the feelings I have for him have crossed the thin line into the realms of what is considered by many to be love. I wish there was another way for me to let him know that I feel this way rather than using that word which has gathered so many meanings and therefore sometimes carries little weight and is banded around so often. I don’t intend to use the word regularly and I don’t need to hear it from him. I just need him to know.

Written on 12.12.2015:

Since I wrote this I’ve spoken with him, explained essentially what i’ve written here. He laughed at me (regular occurrence) and I think said he’d been feeling/thinking the same but didn’t know if it would be the right time/way to say it 😸 That overused word has come up a couple of times since between us and I’m getting used to it.

However, I’ve been thinking, and the word I may actually be looking for is devotion-

dɪˈvəʊʃ(ə)n
noun
love, loyalty, or enthusiasm for a person or activity.

I think that’s it, I can’t pretend I don’t feel it- I’m devoted to him. It took me a while to realise what I was dealing with, while other parts of my life are progressing too.

I can’t guarantee there’ll be no more mushiness like this in the future. “You met me at a very strange time in my life”