Just Emma

     Hello, my love.        It's that time of year. The nights are getting longer; dark clouds fill the skies; and the inevitable march to Christmas- one could be forgiven for not jumping with joy at the prospect of spending a ton of money on a holiday that no longer holds the same magic it once did. The age-old question lands in our laps: should we turn on the heating, or can we hold off for a few more days? Mornings are so dark and cold, we have to wear our winter coats. I walked into a shop today, and I kid you not, they were playing ‘It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.’ It stopped me in my tracks. No, it most definitely isn’t beginning to look a lot like Christmas. But on high streets up and down the county, councils are hanging their festive lights in preparation. Shops are lining their shelves with gift ideas, as much chocolate as they can hold, and fluffy socks in every colour of the rainbow. So why am I not being moved by it all? As a ...

     Hello, my love.          It feels like ages since I last wrote a blog, but life has a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it. I know they say what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, but really. How strong do we have to be? And how the heck are we already in the middle of October? Saying that, this is my favourite time of year. I love the colours of autumn, the misty chill in the mornings, all the Halloween sweets in the shops. Yes, this is the best time of the year. Cut me open, and I bleed pumpkin spice. But that doesn’t mean that it’s an easy time. I suffer from SAD, and the shortening daylight really cuts into my mental health. Ah, yes. Mental health. What a funny thing. One minute you feel like you can handle anything, and then, boom. Life is almost unbearable. And yet. Life goes on. Halloween is just around the corner, then Bonfire Night and then the inevitable Christmas, the most expensive time of the year. Will my wo...

Hello, my love. I am a true-born Londoner. I’ve always lived here, and I love it. To me, it is one of the best places in the world. I love the multiculturalism, the diverse languages, people, and all the exciting world foods you can find on every high street. London is alive morning, noon and night. The only thing that stops me from being a true Brit is my utter dislike of drinking tea. I can’t stand the stuff. Another sign of being a Londoner is the weather. We Brits do not do well in the heat. We are not made for it. Give me a light drizzle and a gentle breeze, and I’m happy as Larry. I have often thought about living abroad, but my heart will always be at home in London. We have withstood wars, terrorism, and so much hate, all while partaking in sarcastic banter over a lukewarm beer. We are known for standing up to hate, holding fast in the face of adversity, and striving to do what is right. Or, is that what we were once known for? Have we shifted even further to t...

              Hello, my love.             Have you ever walked into a room, looked around, and not known where to stand? Or watched others slip so easily into cliques, while you stand there wondering how they do it? I like to think I have a lot of friends and am honoured to know some wonderful people, but that doesn’t mean I always feel like I fit in. More often than not, I find myself in the background, watching and trying to work out where I belong. Why does joining the group feel like a mystery to me? How do some people always seem to know the right thing to say, while I somehow blurt out the wrong thing?          Growing up, I was always the odd one out. Friends and colleagues would get invited out, while I was left behind. What was it about me that didn’t cut it? Is it my inability to “be normal”? Do my Emma-isms scare people off—or is there perhaps a more exciting reason I don’t fit the ...

           Hello, lovelies.             They say that old wounds never heal, or, more succinctly, the wound made by fire will heal, but the wound that's made by the tongue will never heal. Is that true? Is there truth that once you forgive and forget, then the past can stay in the past and no apology is needed? But is that all it takes when someone has wronged you, and a simple sorry is enough to let bygones be bygones? Or are we much more complicated and messier than that? Then there’s the question: do we really need an apology? Can’t we just acknowledge that we were wronged, and that be enough? It would make life so much easier. Not having to rely on someone else, someone who has already hurt us, to genuinely mean it when they say sorry. And then the onus is on us to forgive and forget, as if it is that easy. We have to let go of all the pain, guilt or damage caused by another's actions and carry on as if nothing happened. Wh...

Hello, lovelies. Is it just me, or does anyone else have that voice in head, our own inner critic, that, at times, can be overwhelming and at others, be downright annoying. For me, everything I do, say or think is broken down and dissected, with all my actions laid open for critique. Usually I can live my life normally, but then, mostly at three in the morning, I lay in bed thinking of all the things I have done wrong. All the things I should have said. All the times I should have gone left instead of right. And I’m paralysed with the ‘what ifs.’ I used to think that it was a good thing to listen to my inner voice, as it was only trying to make sure that I did the right thing. But lately, the voice is less concerned with what I do, but it's much more interested in why I do things. Why do I always have to get involved in things that don’t concern me? Why do I always have to have an opinion on everything? And, most importantly, why can’t I keep my big mouth shut? Does my inner ...