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Having a purpose 

For the past four weeks I have been happy, I have felt needed but most of all I feel like I have a purpose in life once more.

Gone are the days I lay in bed, day after day, wishing for the day to be over and now on its place I have a sense of hope and self worth, I have a job.

I have a wonderful ‘little’ job, I have a job that isn’t like working at all and each day I wake up in this ‘new town’ making a life for MY self and making MY mark here, not just Jim’s other half but me, Vera making other people’s lives happier as well as my own.

I have a job as an activities coordinator in a care home and I have had lots of jobs over the years but never one so quite rewarding as this one, I’ve done care work before and I always felt settled in that role (for various reason I can’t do it now, it’s too emotional for me) but this job, I get to ‘play’ most of the day and I love it, I get to organise too which is something I relish in. I work along side another lady and between us we are a bit scatty but together we work well!!

I love seeing the elderly peoples faces when a singer comes in and sings just to them, I love being able to just sit and talk about the old days but you know what I love the most? Seeing someone in the supermarket that I know that Jim doesn’t! It’s a weird feeling!

I get to talk to grown ups every day, people that don’t know me and my messed up life before moving here and it’s nice to be just Vera, just me with nothing attached apart from a clean slate.

Finally for the first time in over two years I feel like I’m needed again, I don’t mind having to stay on for an hour extra or having to work my day off, I don’t mind doing any of those things because I finally have a smile on my face, one I achieved all of my own.

I come home each day, Normally via the supermarket and get myself a pastry, put the kettle on and put my key in the door to our room, it’s just a room but it’s my home, our home and it feels great to finally feel like somewhere is properly home and that for the first time in I don’t know when I can help towards bills and food.

It’s an amazing feeling.

Much love V x

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Moving to a new town

Back in July I moved 50 miles from where all my family and friends are, to be with Jim and I have never felt so lonely sometimes in all my life.

When I lived in the tiny village where everyone knew each other I could pop round a friends house or pop to the pub (it didn’t matter when) and someone would be their to talk too or if I didn’t have that I had work or being with my kids, I had a ‘constant’ around me the whole time and no matter how many times in the past I convinced myself I wanted time on my own, I would scream and shout that I wanted a couple of evenings just me, myself and I but what I would give to be able to still see my kids every day, go to work Monday to Friday or simply go to the pub after work and get shitfaced with my bestie, instead now, I am in a room Monday to Friday and I don’t usually talk until Jim comes home (right now I am not even sure I can talk as I haven’s said a word today, even saying goodbye to Jim this morning I think I grunted), I don’t have much housework to do, its a room for godsake and why should I clean up after the rest of the house? (believe me there has been washing up on the window sill since Sunday and I’m struggling to leave it but the boy who made that mess needs to learn he needs to wash up), I don’t have any hobbies and only this week I’ve actually felt comfortable to put the TV on during the day (didn’t even do that in the whole house we had), the only other people I speak to down here is Jim’s family and they, as I have said before are lovely and without them I would have gone mad months ago.

I guess if I was an outgoing person and put myself out there the maybe I wouldn’t feel so lonely but I have no Idea what to do and this is the crunch, most of these things require money to take part and I just don’t have that right now.

I’m trying hard to find a job but I’ll be honest finding one that doesn’t mean working weekends because of the kids is hard but things have changed since we moved, we have kids every weekend and if I am truly honest those weekends that we have Jim’s kids over, I could work as I struggle with his youngest but that’s for another time, plus also finding work here is totally different to finding work in a small village, my last job I just fell into, I am proud that I don’t claim benefit though while I am sat on my arse.

I am hoping that things will change soon, Jim has started to make changes with his friendship circle and it’s time I took steps to sort mine (or lack of) but finding new friends is hard, I knew my ones in Kent well, how and where do you find them these days?

Anyway I am excited now the washing machine has finished which means for 7 minutes I have something to do!

V x

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Car Tax….Should have been easy!

Was it? was it fuck! It all started about a month ago, I got the ‘letter’ stating my car tax was ready to renew… Oh was it? I wasn’t aware the that I was going to be rinsed for over £250 for the privilege of driving on roads with fucking pot holes in!!!

So I decide a direct debit was the way forward for us, remember I am trying hard not to use the bank of mum and dad, I set the direct debit (this way it’s over £300!) to come out of my account, which was all well and good when I set it up, I was assured my bloody sales job was going to last longer than the two weeks trial (I was shit at sales, didn’t make one in two weeks, mind you who actually want’s palette wrap that hasn’t already got a supplier?!), I fill my car up with fuel using the rather useful ‘pay at pump’ method, even if you don’t have money in your account (as long as you have £1 you are fine) you can fill your car up to £99 worth of fuel, bellends whoever came up with that Idea!

A few days later I suddenly start to panic that I am not actually going to clear what I spent on fuel by the time the first payment comes out, so I call the DVLA up, I always love speaking the them as they are welsh and if Jim had a welsh accent I would be in absolute heaven! “cancel the direct debit” oh you can hear that lovely twang now can’t you, “use your log book to reset it back up again” so that’s what I did, assuming my log book was in my car that was currently having it’s MOT, get the car back, it’s nowhere to be fucking found!!! call them up again on the Monday and well, now it’s Thursday and I’ve only just got it sorted, this was after I looked like a complete blonde/ginge trying to find the fucking VIN number ‘to the right of the centre pillar at the base’…..erm no, it was on the fucking dash, I couldn’t see it because I am a short arse and their was a ticket in the way of the little window they now display the VIN number in  (by this point I am on the phone to Jim as I have run out of data on my phone so couldn’t google myself, also didn’t help he said ‘on the right’ I was looking on the right but inside the fucking engine!! it was the right the other way round!!!) so I stretch in the car over the steering wheel but short arms and big boobs don’t mix, get in the other side, manage to flick the ticket out the way and ‘boom!’ it’s there! so I trudge back to the bloody post office, they tried telling me I would need to send it away with a postal order by this point I was ready to blow but I managed the best resting bitch face I could, through my wonky teeth, I said “I’ve called them three times and they said I have to pay here”, thankfully all sense prevailed and five minutes later, £25 down, I have sent away for my new log book (that I have to fucking change again in two weeks time!) and my car is finally legal again. fucking hell I need a gin and diet coke after all that

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Why do Alien lives matter?

Its an odd choice of name for a blog/website isn’t it? well one thing I have learnt over the course of the last 37 years, that no matter how much we plaster a smile on our faces and in the last few years since Facebook became a staple of our every day lives and the constant ‘look at my life isn’t it great!’ posts we see, for lots of people, life is actually pretty shit but not many are game enough to admit it…I am changing that though, I am standing up to say “my name is Vera and I have a shit life” of course not all of my life is shit but no one will ever say that they have no money or that holiday they went on was funded by a loan, bank of mum and dad or brought by not paying bills, you simply see them on a nice holiday hiding the truth or that night out they had, the smile across their faces actually masks that to have that night out, they are living off sausages and chips for a week brought for £1.50 in Lidl. Even the little green men matter, hence the name.

So I would love to know why life is so shit to you (you will find that I make sentences far bigger than they need to be as I don’t know the correct your and your’re, the same with there, their and they’re….)

Shit Problem One: Basically money or lack of

Shit Problem Two: small matter my kids live with their (did I do it right?!) dad fifty miles away (no I am not a shit mum, two of my boys are autistic and was better for them to stay with their dad and the eldest is doing his exams this year) but they are happy

Shit Problem Three: I have two toned hair that looks ginger (nothing wrong with a ginge but I didn’t want ginge I wanted a mane of blonde

Shit Problem Four: most of my clothes have little holes in them from the crazy ladies house I moved into last year (I am sure I will do a post on that sometime, it’s comedy gold)

Shit Problem Five: I don’t have a job (long story) but with Shit Problem Number One I can’t do anything about Shit Problem Three and Four…

So come on, tell me why your/you’re lives are shit? open up, you can message me to remain anonymous, my plan is to do dedicate a page for others people #shitlivesmatter so people don’t feel so alone and use it as a bit of support and realise “actually life isn’t THAT bad”

Much Love V x