The Rio Summer

I’m woken by a woman knocking and ploughing into the room. I’ve just started dozing after having a bad case of stomach cramps and sickness, and she’s pulling my hostel windows shut. I moan and she says something in Portuguese and gives me a thumbs up. I have no idea what she said.

I’m just dozing off again when it hits. Straight away it’s a solid stream of rain, battering the windows and the roof. It’s loud. This is Rio summer, apparently. Good thing I wasn’t well enough for the beach this afternoon.

Later I’m woken again by my room mate coming in, who is drenched. More drenched than the word drenched could even describe. She make a puddle on the floor as her entire body drips. She points out to me the incessant wail of what could be a warning siren the following Portuguese tannoy that sounds like a dire warning even though I can’t understand it. It’s on repeat, and though we don’t speak any of the language, we’re pretty sure it’s telling people to watch out for the floods. My roomie tells of puddles the height of your calf. It’s rained nearly everyday so far, sometimes heavily. Never this torrential.

When the sun is out, or even when there’s light cloud cover, Rio is stunning. Up on Sugarloaf Mountain, the city below was drenched in the sun’s rays, not the sky’s tears, and Christo Redentor poked his head out of the clouds, misty and mysterious. In the Babilonia community the sun douses the local football pitch come basketball court as kids play football in flip flops, or even barefoot. Hardier than the best Premier League professionals.

As I lie in my bunk listening to the thunder, I recall greeting Teams GB and Egypt at 9pm at night in the pouring rain. My roommate was playing beach games in the rain because the young people here wanted to keep going. A little bit of rain doesn’t dampen the spirit of the Street Child Games.

12 Months, 12 Changes

A year can make all the difference. What are 12 things that are new and different in my life from September 2014?

1. New career: a year ago, I quit TV, and started volunteering at the Sutton Women's Centre. By December 2014 I'd organised a fundraising event and I was a committee member, running the social media. In May we had our 30th Anniversary which I largely organised, and soon we'll have a 30k walk, plus a new marketing plan and our annual Christmas fundraiser that I will have contributed to. My contribution to the Women's Centre fills me with enormous pride and I look forward to seeing it continue to help and support local women for another 30 years (even though one would hope it wouldn't be needed in another 30 years...). I also started volunteering for the Tanzania Development Trust, a role that teaches me new things about the world all the time. After a brief return to TV earlier this year, I got myself a job as Marketing and PR Executive for a charity. Exactly where I wanted to be.

2. Losing my Granddad: words couldn't begin to describe the grief I felt when my granddad died. I have never seen a person die, but I am glad I was there and that he was surrounded by family. Of course the pain of his loss has diminished but I still miss him everyday. I just wish I could hear his voice again, even if it was to grumble.

3. My mum's engagement and impending move: neither of which I am impressed with.She knows this. I've spent hours talking to my counsellor about it. I don't like him, she could do much better, and Lincolnshire is even more the arse-end of nowhere than Burwell. But it's her life. I'm not saying I'm ok with it, but I accept her decision. It's taken me months to get to that.

4. Getting myself back to therapy: following the loss of my granddad, growing resentment over my mum's plans and building frustration at my life, I referred myself to counselling, marking a return after 5 years out. My weekly therapy sessions are a lifeline for my mental health and there are times when I need it and times when I don't, and times when I can't get out of there quick enough, and times when I could do with several hours not just one. I have struggled with my mental health for most of my life, but referring myself to counselling could only ever be a positive step in safeguarding it.

5. New Zealand Take 2- jumping off a suspended gondola and free falling 134m: when I went to New Zealand the first time, I made the mistake of telling the bungee jump company that I have a chronic pain condition. I didn't make that mistake when I booked it, and I was totally fine. In fact I was better than fine because it was an absolutely incredible experience and I desperately want to do it again! My second trip to New Zealand also heralded my first football match - Wellington Phoenix vs Brisbane Roar. We've got the wind, the rain and the phoenix...

6. The gym- my second home: I first went to a gym when I was 15, and my mate persuaded me to go because we both desperately wanted to be thin. I wasn't even fat to begin with but vulnerable to suggestion that I needed to lose weight, like many young women and older women, and teenagers, and even now pre-pubescent girls. And men too. I only went a few times, and mostly stuck to the treadmill. The second time I joined the gym was as a birthday present to myself in 2013 (I also had just split up with the guy I was seeing...). I joined the BBC Club and that gave me the gym at the bottom of my building for cheap. This time I explored more machines, and even weights. I went a few times a week, usually late after work, until I got the craving to playthrough Mass Effect again and I stopped going...

So it is third time lucky. A new gym opened up at the top of my road and they had a pre-opening offer. Spur of the moment, having started running and training for a 10k (running had fallen by the wayside by January 2015 because I was so upset and exhausted over my Granddad, and losing my uncle too in December) I decided to sign up. And it has changed my life. Before when exercise and dieting was a path to beauty, working out and healthy eating is now my path to strength and fitness. The way my body has changed and developed in the last 7 months is something I could never have anticipated at the beginning. I miss the gym when I'm not there. Running is my relaxation, and one more rep is always my ambition.

7. Studying again: I decided to take up a Chartered Institute of Marketing qualification through the Oxford College of Marketing. I knew I wanted to make the move, and I knew that volunteering would only get me so far.It was the right decision, though it is hard. I've done one module so far, and due to holidays and timing, I now have two modules to complete by the end of January, for assessment by the March boards. But I know I want this, and I will do it and do it well.

8. Network, network, network: Networking used to fill me with fear. I started attending the I Am Networking charity drinks in January and the first time I went, I had a panic attack and almost didn't go in. I stood in Covent Garden in floods of tears on the phone to my nana. Then I went in, talked to someone in the lift, and then kept talking to people. The awkward moment where you sidle up to some people having a conversation - just swallow your fear and get on and do it. I've now been to 7 out of 8 monthly I Am Networking drinks, and I'm going to another Charity networking event next week. It's the researcher in me - I like asking people questions and being nosey.

9. 10K: Linked to the gym (no. 6), I ran my first 10k in June, and finished in 1 hour and 12 minutes. There's nothing like the feeling of crossing that finish line, and knowing I'd raised money for Cancer Research UK made it even better. On holiday in Croatia I ran 10k in 1 hour, and I'm due to run the Oxford Half Marathon in October, this time for the Samaritans. I bloody love running.

10. Losing the person I thought was my best friend: pretty self explanatory. For reasons I don't fully comprehend, the person that I thought was my best friend was apparently lying about being my best friend for the last two and a half years. What a waste of our time. Now I know what kind of person she is, and she's not the kind of person I want in my life, and doubtless I'm not the kind of person she wants in hers. I was devastated, heart-broken. Then I was angry, betrayed. Now I am grieving, but calm. It is what it is, I don't wish her any ill-will, but a weight is off my shoulders and a breath of fresh air flows through my life. To adapt an old, much-used phrase, you don't know what you've got weighing you down til it's gone.

11. Topdeck: despite the aforementioned schism with my tent buddy, I had a fantastic time on Topdeck. Yes my last night was kind of ruined by the bull, but actually I had a nice night that night, and many other nights. In fact all the other nights, and days. The lack of sleep, the boiling heat, and the cold and damp and the flooded tents. The walking, the running, the dancing. The setting up and packing down camp, the food Gemma cooked, the food everywhere especially chimney cake and borscht and spinach dumplings. The News, the quiet time, the Wake Up song, the fight over the electricity points. The sweet relief of hostels and cabins.
The new and amazing places I've been. Venice on a gondola, Croatia to party, Budapest to steam out my pores. Krakow to hear the trumpet, and to feel the history at Auschwitz. Prague's 5 story club, Berlin's history, and Copenhagen's Little Mermaid. Hamburg gave me white wine spritzers, but Amsterdam gave me so much more. Already made a list of those to go back to. A haul of 9 new snowglobes for the collection too.

12. Me: The previous 11 points are all things that I've done, or have happened in my life. But the biggest change in the last 12 months is of course me. I've grown, and I've shrunk. I've taken steps forward, and steps backward, and then a few shuffles sideways and sometimes diagonally. I've aimed for one place and ended up another. At the end of it all, I am still me, but changed. Same same but different. I have learned so much, done so much, seen even more and all it's done is whet my appetite for life more. At the beginning of the year, it didn't seem like 2015 was going to go this way. A brief recurrence of self-harm and traits of eating disorders. But I've been there before, and I wasn't intending to get stuck there again. I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and carried on fighting. Like so many people do every damn day.

So with a new tattoo on my right foot, I step into the next school year. I'm ready. Bring it on.

Overwhelming & Heartbreaking

Once, when I was younger, we went on a family holiday to France where there were chickens and a VHS player.

(I think it was VHS, I believe it was still too early for DVD)

One night, we watched Mississippi Burning. I don't think it was the first time I'd seen it, I think I might have watched it in History.

But this night, I didn't sleep for hours.  Long after my mum had sent me to bed, I just cried and wrote in my diary about the state of the world and how much there was wrong with it and the people in it, and how will it ever be right?

That was also the first time I heard my sister talk in her sleep. She said the word hotel. Everything else was unintelligible.

The realisation that the cruelty of the world wasn't just limited to pets dying and being made to eat food I didn't like was overwhelming, and heartbreaking. When I dwell on that knowledge, that no matter what I do in life, there will still be so much hatred, so much injustice, it makes me so miserable and genuinely question what the god damn point of life is.

I want to do more with my life, to make a change for women, men, children, animals, Earth.

It troubled me: how could this kind of thing be allowed to happen? How can people just let it go on?

But there are many people that don't want it to go on. They don't like the status quo, because the status quo is shitty and racist or sexist or homophobic or discriminatory to those with a disability. The status quo means persecution by the military or religious fanatics or someone's own family. So they campaign, raising awareness and/or money. They protest and demonstrate. They petition for parliamentary bills, and some are able to get those bills through.

There's so many things to be changed, it's hard to think the people and time needed can be found.

I'm more of a donator, not a doer. I will spend in the charity shops and throw money in a tin. I buy the Big Issue as often as I can. I'm not saying this to make myself look good, because in actual fact I am a scaredy-cat. I donate my money because I don't donate my time. I've been on one protest march. I've "slept rough" once. Debating marathons the other day I said I wouldn't do one because I don't want to compete, I have never liked competitive sports. I was forgetting the fundraising aspect, the idea of doing something challenging to benefit those less well off.

I'm keen to look up volunteering projects in Oz, especially whilst I'm searching for TV work. I want it to be in addition to working. At the moment I find it hard enough to fit in living. 

I just don't know how people find the time to fit saving the world in, when it takes so much effort and time just living. How does Lucy Holmes find time to run No More Page 3? How did Laura Bates find the time to set up The Everyday Sexism Project? How much time does it take to monitor and update? And how do they cope with seeing so much sexism everyday? How does it not crush their soul and make them give up hope?!

On Malala Yousafzai's 16th birthday - a day many weren't sure she was going to live to see when she was shot - she delivered a speech to the UN. I can't imagine doing that at 16, I was so busy wishing I was popular and hating my body. She shows an incredible maturity. My cynical father said it sounded like her speech had been politicised - i.e a speechwriter had given her some help. And I said, why does that matter? She has a voice, she has a purpose, why does it matter if someone has helped her shape her words in a way we are accustomed to hearing from important speakers. Good for her if she's on her way to being a speaker that all the politicians and world leaders can listen to. Because we need them to listen. We need everyone to listen.

And we need more people to speak up. To create campaigns like No More Page 3. To highlight misogyny (and misandry) with The Everyday Sexism Project. To work on activism through UK Feminista.

My life would be unimaginable without feminism. But a world with equal women's rights is almost as unimaginable when you consider just how far away we are.

It irks me that I spend so much time worrying about my body and not worrying about women's reproductive rights. I actually covered this briefly in a blog back in September 2012:

"I have gotten to a point where spending time worrying about my skin or my thighs etc is pointless. It's futile. Why am I sitting here worrying about my weight, when I am probably 4 times heavier than an African child who has only eaten once this week and has no fresh water?
Why am I fussed whether my thighs are too thick for skinny jeans when there are people being trafficked?"

And my sister posted on my wall the other day part of a Vagenda article that helped reaffirm this disquiet I've been feeling:

'So here’s my resolution. I will be bigger and louder in 2013 than ever before. I will be braver. I will seize the day. I will make a difference to the shape of the world, not the size of my pants. I will focus my energies on helping to make things better for people, not eating less pastry. I will protest when people say society is fine the way it is, not when they say I’m fine the way I am. Because I am, and it’s not.'

Whether it's girls education, or female genital mutilation, or body image and sexist newspapers, there are so many things to overcome. If you stop too long to think about it, it could be overwhelming and heartbreaking. But use that, because that means something is wrong, and it is in your power to help change it.

There are so many of us in the world, but it only takes one person to make a difference. And no matter how small that difference may seem, it is a difference nonetheless.

Preoccupation with surnames... and Christmas

One comment I remember from the hospital filming on Saturday was that the baby was labeled with mum's surname, which was different to dad's surname. This was in case of emergency they said, so they could match mum & baby up without a problem. "It's easier when you're married", said the midwife.

There is, it seems, a preoccupation with surnames. With having the same surname as your partner, or as your child.
Like a lot of opinionated people, I sometimes find it hard to take on board someone else's feelings about a subject, especially when it's one I feel so strongly about.
And surnames is one I feel strongly about.

A few weeks back I had a debate with my friend about surnames, and women taking their husband's surname when they get married. I've just gone through the legal process of changing my surname from Smith to Smith-Bodie, and the question I got asked most often when telling administrators my new name was along the lines of "So did you get married then?" This was exactly the way my doctor put it, but others simply asked Was I still 'Miss' or Is that 'Mrs' now? In fact I got it today, at work - could I bring in a marriage certificate or deed poll certificate. Well I can bring in my deed poll certificate...
Whilst it's great that people are aware that some women add their husband's surname to their maiden name, I don't see why women should have to change their name at all.

My friend said some women just wanted to have the same name as their husband and just because I didn't think that was right didn't mean these women are idiots.

But they must be idiots if only for the one simple reason that changing your name IS NOT EASY. Or cheap!
£43 for my Deed Poll certificates & fee.
£89 for a new passport.
I haven't done my drivers license yet, but that'll be what, another £20.

And the forms you have to fill in seem pointless, and the long list of people you need to tell seems never ending.
HMRC. Banks (I have accounts with 4 banks...) Doctor. Dentist. Optician.
Oyster Card. Mobile phone provider. Amazon. Ebay. Paypal (who want photocopies of your new Passport & Deed poll certificate...)

When I move house, I'll have to do it all over again, too.


Changing my name was for me, an identity thing. I was born a Smith. Christened a Smith.
But I am so close to my maternal grandparents that it seemed crazy that I wasn't a Bodie too. And with my parents divorcing, I don't know if my mum will revert to her maiden name, but she won't technically be a Smith anymore.

I guess, in the same way, taking your husband's name is the same sort of thing, for your identity. Creating a new identity for yourself. But to me it seems like it's taking your identity away. I look at my name change as an evolution of my identity. I'm still a Smith, I'm just a Bodie too now, officially, on paper. I see taking your husband's name as a loss of identity. It's your name, why should that be taken away from you?

(And let's face it - 1 in 3 marriages ends in divorce right, so why bother changing your name if you might be that 1 in 3?)

I came across this blog post whilst looking up about this subject, and it includes this quote:

To name oneself is the first act of both the poet and the revolutionary. When we take away the right to an individual name, we symbolically take away the right to be an individual. Immigration officials did this to refugees; husbands routinely do it to wives - Erica Jong.

My name is who I am. I do not want to get married, so I will never be faced with this dilemma. But I am imploring women not to give up their names just because it seems like standard practice, or because they think you'll look less committed if you don't, or because they worry their children will be disaffected by having parents with different surnames. Just give your children double-barrelled surnames, duh. Double-barrelled surnames are, like, so cool.

**

In a quick aside, my friend is going to a pub in Redhill tonight for their Christmas stalls. Yes, that's right Christmas stalls. It is September. My mum text me this picture the other day or Christmas chocolate calendars or whatever they are called that she saw in the shops.

Let me reiterate - It. Is. September. 

Are we all so desperately lacking in our lives that we need 4 months to prepare for one day of the year that costs too much and makes lots of people fatter and is essentially the epitomy of our consumerist society?

This year for Christmas, I have bought everybody charity gifts. And then when I get back from Trek America, I'll buy some chocolate coins to go with them.

I've only bought everybody's presents already because I like to be organised. Not because, I'm like, SUPER EXCITED FOR XMAS OMG!

I haven't liked Christmas for years, partly due to resenting the fact that shops fill with fake cheer and consumerist tat, mostly due to the way my mother gets miserable and drunk every Christmas because we don't care and her grandad died at Christmas.

Now I don't have a "nuclear" family, Christmas is going to be even more awkward. This year will be the first year I wake up in a home with only one of my parents.

I think birthdays are the special occasion you should make an effort with presents. Not Christmas. Christmas is Jesus' birthday, not mine. Or yours. Unless you are Jesus. I'm sure as hell not.

**

Lastly, in an even quicker aside, this morning I discovered is not easy to drive whilst having a nosebleed. Whilst it's hard enough to drive into London on a Monday morning, doing it whilst blood drips down onto your bare chest and stains your lovely magenta vest top, could result in disaster.

Good thing I'm an excellent driver then.

HA.

I'll let you know if the top survives...