You can travel so much over the course of a year. Throughout that time you can become stronger, more carefree, or even more intuitive. You can see things in new ways, and you can experience places without the emotions that once carried you to them. As I crossed that border it was as though a switch had been turned off. All that I had imagined myself to feel had been erased, a blank page opened and there it has since sat waiting to be written upon. I don’t have those stories yet but they are there and we’ll share them soon. I knew that returning here would be a strange feeling. Last year it was all so fraught. Tears fell, boundaries were crossed, everything was shared online. This time things were different, calmer and more in the moment. Since we’ve been here, we’ve very much been ‘with the flow’, living each day and its events as they’ve unfolded. We’ve not done a huge itinerary of activities, or social media posts. This time, it has been more about switching off from a world that so often requires us to be switched on and present for everything. I imagined that returning to this very place, that has so often been the focus of my writing, my dreams, and at times my nightmares, would be difficult or overwhelming. But it hasn’t been that. If anything it has been closure. Closure on chapters that had run into a state of disarray. I think that's something that our minds tend to do when we feel so strongly about the places where we’ve been. But I also think that’s the point. Those places are important and significant to us personally. They're what has led us to today, and those same places can be very different when we revisit them. Because as time has passed, things have moved on, people who were once there are no longer around, and new names have appeared in their place. Things change and so do we. I’d imagined myself coming back here to pick up all of the same conversations, experiences and emotional markers that I’d left behind last year, but I didn’t find them this time. Instead, we both found ourselves in a calmer place, and for those who read 'Long night on the loch', I'm pleased to say that there has not been a sequel to that story. And so, as we now prepare to take another long road trip through the night, the route may be the same but the stories we’ll bring home will be very different.

It began with a call, doesn’t it always? Sometimes, there are calls that leave us feeling less than good about ourselves, and this one had taken most of the morning. I'd not expected it to, nor did I expect to feel the way I did at the end of it. Calls like these are the dodgy ones. The ones that can take our time and dominate the rest of our day. I'm sure that most of us have taken one of these at some point. If you have you'll know what I mean when I say that they leave you feeling bewildered, and pretty much in a state of 'What the f*** was that?'. At least this was how I felt that day. Little did I know then was that the call would be the start of this story, a ride in the wild. It was a Friday morning in the middle of winter. I'd finished the call with mascara streaks down my face from unexpected tears and revelations I had not wanted to hear. Before I could delve deeper into rumination, J appeared from the garden covered in mud... “Get your jersey on, we’re going for a ride” “Erm ok, really, right now?” I’m used to this. Our rides are often an impromptu event. They have to be living in the wilds of West Wales, where winter chants ‘RAIN-ON-YOU’ and any gaps are acted on with a rapid change into bib tights and thermals. This was one of those gaps, but in all honesty, after The Call, I didn't really feel like doing anything other than thinking it all through. If I'm honest, I was quite weirded out. So, there I was sitting with the phone still glowing in my hand and J now telling me that we were going out. "It'll sort your head out", he said. And to be truthful, he was probably right. After weeks of rain, this particular day was anything but grey, and the wind was good. Escaping what that call had left me with was probably exactly what was needed. So, after a somewhat reluctant change into my cycling costume, off we went down the local lane which long and short, was a really bad idea. I live in a place where the tractor is king, and sure as anything it was not long before we came across one. Within not more than a mile, we ended up in a convoy with another cyclist following the weekly s***-spreading celebration, leaving all three of us coated in brown sludge. That ride ended at a pitiful three miles as the roads were completely trashed with mud, churned-up verges and whatever else it is that tractors exhume. If you think that's it, the end, shows over, I’m pleased to say that this wasn’t the ride I'm going to tell you about. A semi-wild moment it may have been, but it was definitely not a ride in the wild. I just wanted to drop it in here because it is part of this story all the same. One that shows that there are times when we have to ride through the sh*t times to get to the good ones. So, here it is, the actual ride... Into the wild... Later in the day, following the phone call and a fresh change of clothes, we took our Plan B. Living with social anxiety, any trip out usually involves a few backup plans so this wasn’t unusual. It’s just that this time it had more to do with the practicalities. Throughout winter we’ve had to become a little more creative with where we choose to ride. Basically, the higher we go the less drama. Neither tractors nor crowds tend to make it so far up into the hills so it’s a win-win. You just need the legs for it. Riding in this area is beautiful. It’s the kind of place where there is so much to see and so much space to think. Whether we are hiking or biking it, it's one of the few spaces where I can go to clear my head and escape from the stress of this wild world. Setting off.. After setting off from our usual lay-by, it was just minutes before we hit the open road, fresh air and then the public toilets at the bottom of the first incline. We all know that toilets are highly sought after when out in the wild but seldom are they found. To compensate, I have one or two 'wee rocks' that I frequent when out in this area, but thankfully on this ride I didn't need to visit them as these toilets were open for service as usual. As gross as public toilets can be, I will say that the locals really look after these by offering free sanitary and hygiene products. It's also a bit less awkward than walking into one of the few pubs in the village as a stranger with a questionable accent (if you've heard us on our YouTube channel my accent is a mish-mash of all the places I've lived - I'm somewhat of a dialectal nomad). This village is one of those small-knit and cosy places where everyone knows everyone. When we came here in the COVID period there were actual pitchforks surrounding the village with signs saying 'We are watching you'. I kid you not, this community has fire. If you think that starting a story talking about toilets isn't exactly painting a sophisticated off-grid wilderness picture, wait until you actually really need a wee when in the wild. It happens to the best of us, I'm sure you've been there. Toilets that aren't hillside mounds or rocks are to be treasured when you're out for a long one. From what we've seen, and having ridden on the discomfort of full bladders for many miles we would always say, find your toilet(s) and plan them into your route, every time. Pretty fly for a fast guy... So, after the toilet stop we got a few miles and climbs beneath our belts. It was around this time that we had our first fly-by. I don't whether you use Strava but in recent months this new feature has come about where whoever you pass (and providing they are also tracking on Strava), they show up as this little face on your ride screen and it's actually the person you just saw. Honestly, it cracks me up, it's just really funny. Anyway, this fly-by was a surfy-looking type on an old road bike who waltzed passed us with long hair, good grace and a huge smile. It was made complete with the small brown paper parcel tied to the back of his bike with string. It's funny what you notice when you're in those moments of endorphin-fueled highs. The kind of moments where nothing else really matters apart from what's around you. After the long-haired wonder had flown off on his way, that left me and J puffing on and a few moments of grouch realising that perhaps our fitness wasn't up to scratch. That didn't last long though. Within moments we had reached a junction where we often stop for a quick drink and breather before tackling a monster hill into another local village. It's a pretty place for that little moment of 'phewth' and I'd just swallowed a fly so needed to sort that out. So, as the old woman who had gulped her fly, I didn't know what J was going on about when he said, 'Hah, I knew it, see! We're doing good!". As I looked up there he was. Sure enough, just a few hundred feet away there was our fly-by puffing away up the monster. In all fairness, he was doing well but we were surprised at how close we were behind him. It's another one of those things in life - we can think we are terrible at something or 'falling behind' when really, so much of what we see out there is for show, whether it be out on the road or on social media. Life is already wild enough of a ride. We don't need to compare our own to others, we just need to enjoy the good parts in the moments when they happen. It was now our turn to tackle the monster. Hill climbs are widely spoken about in the cycling ether. Even Geraint Thomas said that Pembrokeshire is more hilly than you'd imagine it to be. It's true - West Wales is continuous hills, big ones, small ones, some that have no end. When we first started riding in this area around three years ago, we were on steel-framed bikes and well, let's just say we had little idea as to what we were letting ourselves in for. Back then we'd do small sections of the hills, stop and then turn back when it got too much. I will add though, that it's really not a defeat to do this and we still take breaks on hills now. If I'm honest, I like taking a break whilst on a climb just to see the view. You can be completely puffed out with your legs on fire, but after just a few minutes your legs spring back into action and those pedal strokes that felt like a deadweight just a moment ago become light as a feather once again. Here's J, enjoying his breather halfway up the monster... The Village After a swift sweep down the monster's back, we arrived in the next village. I like this place. One of my favourite people lives here for one, and it's just got quite a peaceful feel with it being nestled in the hills. The last time we rode here was completely different to today. It was during the late summer heatwave last year and we were absolutely covered in sweat and flies by the time we reached the village. Today it was really cold, the kind of cold where you can't stop for more than a few minutes, so we had to quickly scope out what we needed if anything. Cue J with another champion moment here. He'd found another toilet stop and one that didn't involve traipsing through a cafe. Again, these things make such a difference when you're someone who lives with social anxiety. What I've learnt since I've been cycling is that when you're on the bike, you are free. No matter who is around you, you can insulate your focus away from that situation by focusing on your ride, very few people will stop you for a conversation when you're on a bike compared to hiking or walking. But there are still a few anxiety-infused moments. Things like stopping at traffic lights with your bike in front of a huge queue of cars (people tend to stare), going into public places such as cafes or pubs, basically anywhere where there's you as a cyclist and then the wider non-cycling world. Cycling clothing draws a lot of attention and for safety reasons, it's designed that way. But I will say, that despite what we see online about the hate towards cyclists, we've mostly found that people are generally either friendly (e.g. other cyclists) or they leave us be. So, off we went to our newly found pitstop. We'll definitely remember this one for the future to save piling round my mate's house. It was a busy time of day and there was a man doing something with a drill, so the noise was a bit intense as was the situation. So after a swift wipe to remove the remnants of flies from my eyes, a quick hand clean and water refill, we were ready to roll. One of the amazing things about cycling is that it doesn't take long to replace one scene with another that is entirely different. Within minutes of leaving the village, we were back out into the wilds once again with nothing but the road and hills around us. After some fresh miles behind us, we arrived at one of our favourite spots. If you're a standing stone enthusiast, this is a place to be. So much untold yet so powerful. When you're up here, riding or walking to them feels even more otherworldly, as though you've earned their presence. We'd also earned a small flapjack to share at this point so we sat amongst the stones for around ten minutes eating, thinking and just taking in the view around us. These moments are so often the sanctuary of being out in the wild. Away from the chaos of society and its ills, just you and nature. It means so much to both me and J whenever we are able to do this. The ride home. The final few miles of a ride always feel the longest, and this day was no different. By this point we were powering right against an ice-cold headwind along 'Treacle Way'. J recently called it this as it's such a weird stretch of road. It's flat and tarmacked so you'd expect to be gliding but whenever we ride it, it's a slow slog. Might just be us, might be the after-effect of the standing stones. Whatever the case, it's a tough stretch but the views along it are some of the best. The final miles As we rode those final few miles the sun was starting to set as the perfect backdrop to the last climbs of the day. It was also an opportunity for me to reflect on my own day and the dodgy phone call that had taken so much from me. The call itself was not 'dodgy' as such but it was heavy going and had resulted in running over things and returning to places I'd long moved on from. That was dodgy for me, in the sense that it brought up a lot of unpleasant memories and resounding emotions. Yet it also reminded me of how much had changed, and for the better. At the end of that call, I had been given a choice. A choice between returning to the therapy room for regular appointments or continuing with the things that have now become my pillars in this wild world. Writing, being outdoors, exploring new places and cycling with J, all things that I didn't have space for many years ago when my life had been a series of mental health appointments and crisis moments. I'd asked the man on the other end of the call, 'What if therapy were to take up time that could stop me cycling?". After all, I knew from the therapy I'd received from years gone by that time and commitment are two of the prerequisites for it to 'work'. The man's response was simple; 'Laura, this is completely your choice'. And he was right, it was my choice. A choice that had taken me on this ride in the wild, and as I rode those final miles with the sun setting ahead of me and J beside me, I knew that I had made the right one. If you liked this story, head over to our new YouTube channel for further exploration of the wild, urbexing, hiding in hedges and all of the other things we do to avoid the crowds...

It’s 5-something-am on another howling day in the depths of winter. The world is hitting out hard right now. We’re on a paranoid road trip. As I wrote this article in the early dawn, I'd not yet seen the news. I hadn't yet read the flurry of updates about the UK falling into recession. It was only once I had finished writing that I checked socials and saw it all unfolding. The chimes of yet another bad thing in our society, caused by a government that attempts to run its citizens into the ground. Another stretch of road in our paranoid trip. A trip where we can pretend we’re on a different route by grabbing our small moments of ‘I’m doing ok’ and showing them off to the world. I know, I do this too. But I don’t know about you, but I cannot keep pretending while we live in such times. Economic uncertainty is rife, and it’s making us anxious, we’re paranoid, and beneath it all, we're frightened. As I write this now, it's 5:30am and I’m already thinking about the mesh of projects I need to uphold, the things I need to do for any hope of security. I know I'm not alone in thinking this way. That I need to be a creative person around the clock, thinking of the next idea, concept or way to cut through the evergrowing noise that exists out there. I’ve written before about the online attention economy and why for some of us it is survival. I’ve written about my past relationship with social media and how I once became addicted to it. I’ve not written about the offline world so much in this sense as it’s a bit heavier to tackle but paranoia is there too. We’re all on this road trip together, but some of us have better seats or faster vehicles. Some of us don’t even have a bloody car and are left simply wandering along behind in the dirt. Coming away from the metaphors, what I am saying is that irrespective of our individual circumstances, to some extent, we are all living in fear or worry about what is coming next or whether we are going to be able to make ends meet in one month, six months or a year. This world we live within, and its system of neoliberalism makes us paranoid and insular. It grips us from within and tells us that we need to do whatever it takes to survive, but never can we reach out, never can we talk to someone else and Christ, whatever happens, never can we post truth-to-power statements on social media. We are not ever really allowed to share our worries with others to mobilise out of them, even though we may be living them collectively. This is why we’re all on this road trip but we’re not travelling together, instead, we are racing to end it. I think that one of the problems of living in a world of economic uncertainty is the relativity to others. As neoliberal citizens we are imbued with social comparisons and preoccupation with status, that’s just who we are and I know you probably wouldn’t believe me if I were to tell you that could change. Take social media for example... You log on to Twitter / X, BlueSky or whatever platform you’re doing your thing on. The first thing you see in your ‘For You’ or whatever the algorithm has suggested is a post that hits you right in the heart. It’s talking about a story of someone with a disability who’s being discriminated against, or someone who has just been diagnosed with a horrendous illness. It might be a story about someone who is grieving a sudden loss, or even someone who has lost their white-collar job because they were too working-class for it. Whatever the story, at some point when you join these spaces, there will be someone out there who will share something that connects with you. This is because irrespective of what neoliberalism makes us feel, we are not all that unique and our pains and trauma are often collective. But then, you see the other stuff. The status and comparisons. X / Twitter, in particular, is frequented by middle-class folk so this means…. (everyone stopped reading here)… Anyway, what I am saying here is that on social media we see our collectivism but never truly enact it. Because we all have our own reputations, brands, identities, pursuits, Yada-Yada to uphold. Unless we are in the #Blessed group of the relatively privileged who frequent these spaces, we simply have to move on and not talk about it further. Privilege is not just economic, it’s social too. And those with less of a need for privacy are more readily able to speak out. That said, not being able to share everything isn’t entirely a bad thing. I truly don't believe that this share-all and shout-loud culture benefits us other than for a short burst of resonance. That stuff is for virality, you know that as well I do. But returning to the economic uncertainty that we share, there are some disparages. Where we live in a world where there is such scarcity in job markets and the things that people are really good at seldom exist as a means of income, this leads our road trip to turn hostile. Be it online, offline, or on another planet, once humans are placed into survival mode they will fight. And what we are seeing now are silent battles caused by this paranoid road that we’re travelling along. Insecurity and paranoia drive us straight into a state of doing whatever it takes to survive and regardless of how many of us bleat out a ‘#BeKind’ or alternative statement to make it all seem kinder, this world, it’s a battleground. This is why those we think of as friends are watching our every move to make their own a better one. It’s why competition is so rife, and it’s also why we are actively encouraged to engage in meaningless conversations to keep up the pretence that it’s all ok. This article is inspired by Muse’s, ‘Revolt’… How did we get in so much trouble? Getting out just seems impossible Oppression is persisting I can't fight this brain conditioning Our freedom's just a loan... As Matt Bellamy hauntingly sings, I can feel your pain. It’s true. We are on this road trip together and we can feel each other’s pain and paranoia. But we don’t believe we have the freedom to get out of our cars and talk to each other because of money. We’re frightened that if we help someone else we will end up facing the same adversity. Because none of us want to go without and so many of us are restricted in how we can earn an income. That’s why so much of the fleeting happiness we feel is centred around achieving our career goals rather than living our everyday lives. It’s economic, it’s capitalism and it feels crass to write about so openly but from what I can see it’s also the truth. So, maybe now is not the time to start sharing everything online for superficial reasons. But perhaps it is the time to start seeing each other, coming away from the competition and spite caused by our collective paranoia on this trip, and if someone else has broken down, maybe offering them a ride rather than driving on by on our own journeys. By doing so this might allow us to step out from the paranoia and begin to fight the real problems of this world. Thanks for reading. If anything here resonates, feel free to share your own words below. The pain is real, our freedom is collective.

I write this in a rabid mood on a rabid day in post-Christmas haze. A storm rages outside. The ‘ate too much’ discourse permeates social media platforms, and every man and his dog have now revealed that they are fitness enthusiasts. In true form for our new fast-forward society, all traces of Christmas are now being removed from our lives and for many people, that real Christmas feeling never even happened. I’ve spoken with a few people online and offline over the last few days and the response I’m seeing when asking them ‘whether they had a nice one’ seems to be unanimous. That it was an ok, a mediocre affair, but the feeling of festive joy was absent. Then, why so? Well, if you think I’m about to psychoanalyse and present some deeply intellectual account of society, it’s not going to happen. But what I do know is this. That this world we live in today is a wilderness of fuckery. It tells us when to be happy, when we should mourn, what we should eat and how much. We’re told that we work too little, or that we’ve worked too hard when it all breaks down and goes wrong. The horrors of this world persist at a macro scale and in the fine lines of our everyday lives that are then dismissed as first world problems. Our class lines are turning into divides of giants and we live in a world where irrespective of who lives and who dies, attention and being seen is everything. I’m sorry to write such a gloom-ridden account of society, but really, can we pretend any longer? Maybe you can, and maybe if life is ticking along ok it’s easier to blinker out the ‘other things’, the less happy things. After all, there is beauty in life and what better than those moments when you truly feel relaxed. I mean the times when you took that long walk or read that book that left you thinking for days. Those things are real too. But Christmas wasn’t doing it for many of us this year. The lights were on but were any of us really home for it? Christmas has always been a thing of tradition, and with it comes perhaps the brightest magnifier of the state of society. Because when someone hands us the script of joy, when we feel anything but and in some cases are in absolutely horrendous circumstances it’s like a boiling kettle that cannot hold its steam. This year, in 2023 it wasn’t just those of us in adversity who felt it. People were exhausted before it even began. When the day came, and another tired face passed a tired cracker over the table. Smiles that shone with sad eyes and another day of pretending. Just two days on and here we are already, business as usual has resumed and the everyday stresses that were in our lives before are still there. I’m sure I don’t need to be the cruel person who told everyone that Father Christmas isn’t real, but honestly, this year Christmas floated in early and blew out as soon as the storm arrived. And as we all wonder what the coming year will bring, reflection on these recent days shows that as a society we are sinking further into a collective depression. Inequalities persist, poverty rising, a government that attempts to gaslight us into thinking all is well, a media that simply packs up and moves on to its next story, and a digital nation of citizens largely at war over whose voice is the loudest. Santa brought a gift that woke us all up this year. We know that things need to change, but we sink into the belief that we have little power to do so. We read the stories, we watch the events unfold but then, once Christmas comes we attempt to sleep for a while. Until it stops working and then reality unfolds... Basically, Christmas said it all.

So that’s it for another year. Christmas has been and gone. Whether you’re feeling relieved, exhausted or on a complete comedown, if you are here with me reading this right now then I think it’s safe to say we got through it in one piece. So what next? New Year isn’t quite ready for us yet but that time between is, the time they call ‘Twixmas’. When the discourse shifts from let’s all stuff our faces to let’s all get out for a walk, this is received unanimously and acted upon accordingly. We go out for a walk, and so does everyone else. The problem with the universal nature of Christmas and its add-ons is just that, we’re all trying to live out the same life routines, emotions and activities simultaneously. That’s a lot of pressure for everyone as our lives are not the same, and we all face different circumstances. Firstly, some didn’t get a Christmas break, and only now might be catching some time to relax and enjoy themselves. Secondly, others are quite simply relieved that Christmas has now passed and just want to enjoy whatever time they have before the regiment of life resumes itself. Whatever the case, and whatever circumstances you face, I’m sure we’ll agree that for those of us with social anxiety this time of year is perhaps one of the most difficult. Everywhere is busy. It’s a narrow window of time where a large proportion of society is trying to find nice things to do after days of intensive work or sitting in the house. Our usual tranquil walking places have turned into a hive of activity, and wherever we go it feels like the summer holidays on steroids. Where the winter days are short this only adds to the intensity, no one wants to walk in the dark or 40mph wind with lashing rain. 12pm – 3pm is happy hour. It’s not just busyness though. Social anxiety is broader than just numbers. It’s the fear of seeing someone you know and having to speak to them. It’s a life of avoiding these kinds of interactions that are all too often imposed upon us. So, how do we navigate this and find space for ourselves? Space to think 1. ‘It’s only a few days’ Ok, so before the solutions, firstly let’s put this one to bed. Sure, Twixmas is a few days but for so many of us, our routines and lives have already been turned upside down. We’ve seen weeks of bright lights and intensive social activities, we’re tired now and just want to find some peace and quiet. Not everyone has a big garden or a private field they can enjoy without observance from others. If only huh? The difference for those of us with social anxiety is that this isn’t about frustration or inconvenience. When you live with this type of anxiety it can literally stop you from being able to do things that others can, leaving you housebound. A few days for those of us with social anxiety can feel like a lifetime. 2. Time of day This is a big one and perhaps obvious so apologies in advance. Most people want to live a relaxed routine right now, but there will be variances of early birds and night owls. The vast majority of people however seem to be out and about during the light hours – particularly during the middle of the day. The media play a big role in prescribing what people should be doing and when (as above). Of course, no one wants to feel as though they are a sheep but society has its norms and we are all a part of that. How many of us feel we should get out for a walk on Boxing Day? There’s no actual logical reason why we should get out for a walk on Boxing Day but we’re all a bit ‘let’s get out for a walk’ when Boxing Day arrives. Media discourse is powerful stuff. So, watching the mainstream media and choosing an unpopular time (even after dark if safe to do so), might help you find some peace. 3. Place and activity We all know that going for a hill walk is going to be a completely different experience from going to the shops. But social interactions can happen anywhere and everywhere. I was once down an isolated country lane helping my brother after a car crash when a man appeared and literally asked me whether I ‘come here often?’. I kid you not. It’s worth thinking about what kind of activities and social interactions you can handle (if any). Sometimes, busy places are actually easier to navigate as more people present less scope for chat. But then you have the noise and additional sensory stimuli in these spaces. If you decide to go for a more rural/outdoor activity, it might be helpful to plan what time you go. People love to chat in these locations – there are only so many ‘Oh it’s lovely here’ responses we can muster. A key tip here is that the early morning dog walkers tend to be much less social than those out later in the day. You’ll likely just get a curt ‘alright’ if anything because they tend to be like us and just want to have their morning walk in peace. Introvert wins 4. Embrace winter Ok, so one reason why I love winter is that it allows for extra garments to be worn, aka avoidance props. I pretty much live in a beanie for as long as I can get away with throughout the year. You can simply pretend you haven’t heard someone speak to you and we perhaps don’t look quite as approachable. Scarfs are also great – especially when combined with the beanie. You might feel a bit like an Egyptian mummy but it’s the one time of year when it’s not going to gain you glares and stares to do this. Add a big winter coat and you’re away. 5. It’s ok to go home We’ve all been there. Me and J drove four hours in the summer and turned straight back because it was a complete people overload. Our take-home from that day was a fine for driving into a bus lane (both of us overwhelmed), and a cake in a quiet Morrisons cafe. It’s disappointing, frustrating and not an ideal situation but sometimes it works out. The place you chose to visit might be out of bounds but you might find somewhere better on the way home. The main thing is to not internalise ‘going home’ as a failing. There’s no shame in changing plans or diverting to something else if it’s going to be more accessible and enjoyable. 6. It’s ok to stay home If going out during a busy period feels too overwhelming then it is ok to stay home. There’s way too much emphasis placed on ‘battling through’ and championing being outside of our comfort zones when actually it’s a marker of self-awareness for staying within them. I think that we should be credited for that. Avoiding a panic attack or a stressful situation isn’t a weakness, it’s a huge indicator of self-awareness. And going back to the first point, that Twixmas is just a few days. So it won’t be too long until normal life resumes. I find my emotions and sensory tolerance can vary from day to day, so it might be that you don’t feel able to do that thing today but perhaps tomorrow could work. It’s ok to stay home if that’s what is needed today. Whatever your plans are for the next few days, I hope that you find some quiet spaces, places and activities that allow you to breathe a little. These are just my own strategies, so feel free to add anything I might have missed through the comments below or come and chat with us on Twitter. Solidarity x p.s - Here's our first episode of Social Anxiety Chat. A new podcast that looks at what social anxiety really is. It won't tell you how to 'overcome your fears' (as many others do) but what it will provide is a critical lens on society and how we navigate this unforgiving world. #society #mentalhealth #introvert #socialanxiety #twixmas #newyear #autism #anxiety #neurodivergent #life #Christmas

Christmas is coming, the goose isn’t on the agenda this year. I don’t know about you but I think we’re pretty much done with that. We already know what’s coming, that Christmas is noisy, disruptive to routines and generally exhausting for those of us who like a quieter life. So instead, let’s talk about something that many of us find awkward but seldom speak about. The joy of opening presents in front of people… You know the feeling. That moment when all eyes are on you. You are the centre of the stage and you need to give your best performance when that shiny, patterned object is passed your way. But they say it’s not all about the presents, right? Perhaps not but we’ve been doing this for years now and it doesn’t get any easier. Firstly, being stared at is embarrassing. Secondly, surprises are uncomfortable… It’s your turn… If we are to do gifts at Christmas, then surely it should be acceptable to retreat off somewhere as a dog does with a bone. That would be a great solution right? Sure, but it isn’t how present opening works. Because the gift of giving is reciprocal and people love to watch others’ reactions. We know that we should be thankful as not everyone receives a gift at Christmas, but that doesn’t take away from feeling awkward when one comes your way. Most people mean well but there is a high emotional emphasis placed upon giving the right gift. Look around you right now, what does almost every advertisement say? Feeling awkward about opening presents and finding the right reaction can be difficult. Just as difficult as being the person who didn’t get the right reaction to the gift they spent a long time making or being the latecomer who doesn’t receive anything aside from sheepish looks and ‘Oh, I think yours must have gone missing’. So here are some tips to avoid embarrassment and awkwardness – all without upsetting the present giver: 1. Watch other introverts in your family. My nan perfected avoiding present opening years ago. I remember childhood Christmases when her gifts would end up in a different room or down the side of the sofa. I still don’t quite know how she mastered it, but she managed to eliminate herself from collective present opening year after year. It became a norm that she opened hers later. We can learn a lot from our family introverts – they’ve been navigating this stuff for years. 2. Take a decoy gift. This one has been tried and tested a few times. You hear the dreaded ‘This one is for you!’, or ‘Can’t wait to see your face with this one’. This is your cue to bring out the decoy gift. It doesn’t have to be anything expensive or extravagant, in fact, the less so the better as it doesn’t end up being a ‘competitor’ gift if that’s the kind of thing that happens in your family. The key to mastering this is when the emphasis is placed on you, divert the attention to someone else through the decoy by saying, ‘Well actually, I can’t wait to see your face with this one – just a little surprise’. More often than not people will be happy to open gifts simultaneously, but failing that you can insist that the surprise (decoy) takes centre stage, while you open yours with less attention placed on it. 3. Children and pets will save you Children are always going to take centre stage at Christmas. No adult in the world is going to take the attention away from those lit-up faces, still imbued with the magic of Christmas. This one relates to the decoy strategy but is even more effective, as adult present openings can be taken or left, but no one wants to miss a child present opening. If there are no children present, apply the same strategy to pets. Pets are useful as they take longer to open gifts and it’s funny to watch. Alternative entertainment takes place while you resort to nan’s strategy and get hiding your gifts. A carrier or gift bag is a good gathering tool to hide presents for a later and more private opening. Pets are our friends and saviours during these moments.. If there are no pets or children then you might be a little bit screwed – but rest assured decoys still work. 4. Humour presents are actually easier to Navigate. If you receive a gift that is humour based the good news is that this is actually much easier. Why? Because chances are it hasn’t cost a lot and doesn’t have great sentiment such as jewellery or something that’s been contributed towards by half the family. The bad news about humour presents is that they are based on someone else’s humour. No introvert in the land wants to receive a fancy dress garment or something that requires a performance for everyone in the room. That said, if it’s someone you know well, the chances are that you already know their humour so you can prepare. Some joke gifts are easy to negotiate. You simply pass them back and say, ‘I think this one’s on you to demonstrate’. If it’s something more personalised to you then it’s okay to just say, ‘well this is a bit awkward’. The great thing about humour gifts is that they are less serious and sentimental, and more about the joke within the moment. There’s less masking involved as you can admit defeat with these. My mother gifts me something like this every single year and guess what? This year I know she’s my gift giver in the family Secret Santa, so without a doubt, I’ll have one of these pinned on me. I’ll let you know how it goes (depending on what it is of course). 5. Embrace being the outsider A final tip, what you will receive (if anything) is very much based on where you are doing Christmas. If you are an outsider to the group, such as the new boyfriend/girlfriend visiting your partner’s family for the first time or spending Christmas with someone else’s family then it can seem more intense. But actually, being the outsider at Christmas has its benefits. Firstly, if you are someone outside of the family or still getting to know them, then you are probably going to receive a ‘safe gift’, along the lines of chocolates or an Amazon gift card. Safe gifts are easier to manage as you can give the standard, ‘These are my favourites’ or ‘Oh this will be really useful, thank you’. Secondly, you may find that prospective new family members want to make a positive impression on the newcomer without making their family look too weird, so the usual quirks and humour gifts might take a backseat. Until next year anyway. A final note on this one. If you are the outsider who isn’t going through a getting-to-know-you phase (e.g. a neighbour or distant friend), then you might see a safe one come your way or you may not receive one at all. Whilst it can feel awkward watching others opening their presents whilst you’re sat on the sidelines, you can rest easy knowing that you don’t have to open anything yourself. If it’s really awkward you can offer to make drinks, watch the food or even go off and eat the food while it’s all going on. Remember pets too, the cat is always a willing recipient for your attention. The ultimate Christmas friend. So, being the outsider is actually the best role in the house. That one best not be mine.. Whatever your circumstances this year, I hope you find some downtime and peace away from the less enjoyable parts of Christmas (such as opening gifts). We know it’s a tough time of year for many people and for all sorts of reasons, so I hope that this post brings you solidarity, support and some light relief. That’s all from me for now as I’m off to wrap some final presents. I truly hate it and I’m always mocked for it, but that’s a story for another day. Merry Christmas to all who are socially awkward out there, and solidarity always x p.s. If I’ve missed anything here and you have your own tried and tested strategy, feel free to comment below or chat with us on Twitter 🙂

It’s around 5:30am on the 23rd December. Christmas has well and truly broken into its chorus, social media platforms have been deserted for those much-needed ‘breaks’, and what for many signals a time to rest. But for some (in fact, I reckon many) of us, rest during Christmas is a myth. So far this week, I think I’ve seen 3:30am every day. Today I’m winning my chronic insomniac streak having not slept since my 3am lurch into wakefulness and thinking. I’ve got a man coming to the house at what could be any time from 8am, ETA unknown (smart meter fitting). That will then absolutely guarantee a knock from the neighbour afterwards to compare notes on our installation experiences, oh, and I’ve just removed a gigantic slimy slug from the lid of my kitchen bin. On top of a 3am start, it's all a bit much really. That might read like a bit of a moan but quite frankly I need to write this because insomniacs are everywhere, not just for Christmas. To be honest, I’ve found the function of my insomnia this week is that of time to think. Because in the day, between organising who’s going where and when, what time the pigs are being picked up, which shopping slot is happening when, finishing up work duties, wrapping presents, saying ‘no’ to being put down for the annual family board game, and remembering to check in with friends because that’s what you’re supposed to do… honestly, there’s no time to think, is there? When the days are so busy, like an overfilled waste bin ramming normal life and Christmas life tasks into one tiny container, is it any wonder that we aren’t sleeping well? And is it any wonder that so many of us feel that we need to switch off? We don’t have control over most of this other stuff, but we do have control over our phones, our social media use, and the devices that we can switch off (or at least we think we do). We can’t say no to Aunty Linda’s fried sprouts but we can say no to these other things. And that sense of autonomy in this system of oppression (sorry, I meant Christmas), it’s good, isn’t it? It gives us a sense of control when life feels completely out of control. I know I’m not the only insomniac in Christmasville. I’ve seen the forum posts, blogs and tweets from others in similar positions. 3am-ers are a tribe of the night right now because our minds are filled with so much stuff, the only time for ourselves is in its depths. Once you’ve run through your first sleep cycle and those melatonin levels aren’t what they were at 10pm, it’s little wonder that this is precisely the time when our minds will get to work. When I previously wrote about insomnia, it would be mournful, angst-filled or tales of anxiety. This time it’s different because I know that my own insomnia is telling me something. It’s telling me that I cannot keep running on fast-forward. For once, it’s not social media that I need to switch off from, it’s life. But when you have so much to do and so much disruption to routine, it becomes impossible to switch off. Because even during the evening once all is set aside for the day, you can’t stop thinking about the different things you need to do. The people you need to see, the emotions you need to feel and the way you need to present yourself. So, is Christmas really a time for rest? The truth is, some of us will have more rest than others depending on our circumstances, our obligations, our home lives and ultimately, our minds. Having been the norm and tradition in our Western culture for so many years, it's become ingrained at the cost of worn-out consumers. I don’t know about you but there is so much to do, I find it difficult to switch off. Even now, as I write this there’s a mental list preparing itself. One telling me that really I should be writing Christmas cards for people who’ve sent me one, perhaps painting my nails or wrapping the last few presents. Well to be quite frank, f**k you Christmas, for now I’m writing. Leave me be. For anyone who experiences social anxiety around opening Christmas presents, this might help: Social anxiety: Five tips to overcome the awkwardness of opening Christmas presents

With just over a week to go, the festive period is now truly in swing. But for those of us with social anxiety, Christmas can be a minefield. It is a time when we have to put our best masks forward, be happy, cheery and festive, all while trying to navigate the multitude of social situations and events that come our way. So, after an initial recording that went completely wrong (and many edits along the way), me and J have put together our second Social Anxiety Chat podcast. In this episode, we’re going to be talking about what Christmas is really like for people with social anxiety, why it’s often easier to be a ‘Scrooge’ or ‘Grinch’ and some practical tips for the lead up to Christmas as well as the big day itself. We’ll both be giving our different perspectives on Christmas chaos, including the noise, the lights, overbooking your calendar with too many parties, awkward moments around the table and the much-dreaded shopping. Christmas is said to be a time for fun and relaxation, but for those of us with social anxiety it is often quite the opposite. So, here we are.... Thanks to those who have supported us with our (very) new podcast journey. If you would like to hear more raw and frank stories about what social anxiety really is, please subscribe to our new YouTube channel and feel free to share your own experiences and stories. In the meantime, Merry Christmas from all of us here at Aunty Social World!

Twitter, or X as we’re now meant to call it, has changed. We’ve all noticed it. Engagement is at an all-time low and many of those reliable and familiar faces have now disappeared into the ether. What was once a bustling community has been replaced with spam, blue tick bots and meme farms. Twitter has never been perfect of course. The incentive for hate, trolling and pile-ons has always been a key feature of its engagement driven algorithms. But for many, Twitter had become a lifeline, especially for those who felt isolated in every other aspect of their lives. During the COVID years, it helped people stay connected. Others felt they could find their tribe on Twitter and be their true selves. Whether this version of Twitter ever truly existed is a debate for another day, but right now we can be certain that X just isn’t what Twitter used to be. In this final blog of our ‘online communities’ series, we talk to two former Twitter users about their time on the platform. What they have written for us speaks powerfully about their own experiences on Twitter, what it meant for them and why they feel it’s a place they can no longer be. We won’t dilute their answers with our own running commentary, or try to overshadow what they have said, so what follows is their written responses in full. Liz What was Twitter like for you before you left? I had been on Twitter for sometime before the COVID-19 pandemic started, where I shared my blog posts, or anything related. I used to chat with bloggers here who I already knew before as well as others. But it was during the COVID-19 lockdowns that the Twitter community meant so much. I met more like-minded people, or who sadly had same/similar experiences. Many of us couldn't see our loved ones in care homes. Even when lockdowns started lifting, care homes didn't and so my torn feelings and struggles I was having because of it, I came across those who were going through the same thing. So we understood and supported each other. I felt we were a united front. Has your experience of online communities on Twitter changed? If so, what do you think has caused this? My first original Twitter account I made private and only the people who I actively communicated with and vice versa were allowed to follow and I created a second one just for blog purposes where anyone could follow. I was getting some abuse when covid had started and there were other things I did not want to see that I was seeing, so I heavily muted that account. Unfortunately, some things were still coming through. So I gave up muting any further. Eventually things were going quieter with both my Twitter accounts and then Elon Musk took over. I closed my second Twitter account I created and opened up the other one, so that anyone could follow again. Nothing bad happened. But I was still feeling should I leave Twitter. Prior to taking a month's break completely from the online world last year, including Twitter, I came back to find Elon Musk had upset his employees again. I then noticed how quiet things were on Twitter. I hardly had any interaction. I also noticed how even more I wasn't seeing tweets from those I followed and so I would literally have to bring them up to see if they were ok. I see that they were actively tweeting. Yet I wasn't seeing them on my timeline and instead there would be tweets on my timeline from people I wasn't following. So things have definitely got worse since Elon Musk took over and I wonder if it's money that now speaks, over the rest of us that don't want to pay for the services Elon Musk puts on. In the end, mentally, I could not bear Twitter any longer and I closed my remaining Twitter account down in February this year. Although I wasn't on Twitter all day, it became less towards the end until I decided one day I had enough and left. I that feel since leaving Twitter I have more free time. My mental health and well-being feels better for it because it got to the point that when I had good mental health days and went on Twitter, I would not feel good after. The things I muted still somehow would appear on my timeline. There be the odd tweet that would appear on my timeline that I hadn't followed. So why was I seeing that? And the people that mattered to me, who I followed, it was getting to the point where I wasn't seeing their tweets. So, I would have to visit their timeline to see if they had tweeted or not. So deciding to leave Twitter permanently in addition to the other areas of my life that I have changed, has helped me manage my mental well-being much better. What do you think is important for Twitter communities to stay connected in the future? When you were lucky to find the right people, you would find you had a good supportive network. You didn't feel alone and isolated. What I had before things changed for the worse was really important to me. Those people I chatted with often were important to me. For those still on Twitter we need that back. But will it happen? Liz has left Twitter but has since crafted her own digital space where she writes regularly about health and wellbeing, mental health, books and more. Check out Liz's blog here: https://takingeachdayfree.wordpress.com/ Henry How did leaving Twitter make you feel? It’s complicated. I use three Twitter accounts. One for personal use where I only scroll to keep up with all the latest news and politics, and the other two for business. So, rather than saying I have actually left Twitter, it is probably better to say that I am taking a back seat. Stepping away from the everyday chaos and just popping back on now and again to do the essentials. I still scroll my personal timeline, but this has become less in recent weeks. I don’t think Twitter can still be thought of as a reliable source of information anymore. Finding the truth on a platform tailored towards performance, misdirection and one-upmanship requires far more energy than I am willing to expend. Stepping back has been an enormous relief. Twitter is corrosive. It eats into your psyche. You live your life on edge, not really knowing why your heart is racing or why you suddenly find yourself in a foul mood. All you know is that the platform is there, lurking in the background, waiting for your latest content. You need to post something otherwise the algorithm won’t be happy. Never mind your own happiness. Just keep feeding the algorithm. So yes, it’s been a relief to step back. My general mood has improved and a shadow of dread has been lifted. On those occasions when the threat of Twitter does rear its ugly head, I can feel my mind quickly slipping back into darkness. It’s a place I do not want to be. Was there anything that surprised you about yourself when you left? Only when I stepped back did I realise how much Twitter was ruining my life. It might sound extreme to say Twitter could ruin your life, but looking back that’s exactly what it was doing. I’m not talking about major irreversible consequences. It didn’t cause financial ruin or anything like that. But it did ruin everyday life. It drained my life of any joy or fulfilment. A simple walk could become consumed by conversations about the next tweet. You sit down to eat dinner and then realise at the end that you were too stressed to remember how it tasted. You live and breathe for the platform. Sometimes you don’t realise it until you leave. Do you think you will ever return? I hope not. I certainly won’t ever go back to posting daily or being actively social. I still use the platform to keep up with news and politics, but unless there is a major story to follow, I am finding myself checking my timeline less and less. I did very briefly try Threads (the new platform by Meta) but if anything it’s worse than Twitter. It is missing key features such as a proper search function and the ability to follow a select group of users. Because of this, it forces you to engage with random people in your timeline in the hope the algorithm shows you to more relevant users. Blue Sky seems promising, but only time will tell. At the moment the algorithm is kind and forgiving. But how long will it be before its AI mind learns how to harness the power of human jealousy, competitiveness and spite? Not long I would imagine. Nothing seems to drive engagement more than misery and hate. Whatever the case, I really doubt that I will return to regularly posting on Twitter again. To do that would be to give up my freedom to live the life I want to live. We all pretend that we have full control over how we use social media, but there is no escaping the algorithm and what it does to you. Once it is inside your head, it will control you. My advice? Escape. Banish it from your life and don’t look back. A big thank you to Liz and Henry. If you have your own Twitter experience you would like to share, please free to comment below. There is something new from Aunty Social World... Say hello to our brand new YouTube channel! We will be sharing stories, podcasts and all of those wild and weird Aunty Social World moments. Our very first video tells the story of what happened at Wales Comic Con in Telford. A must-listen for any Doctor Who, Eastenders and Breaking Bad fans. Enjoy!

A week has passed since we attended Wales Comic Con in Telford last weekend. We've both been a bit wiped out. It was our first time at a Con, and in true form for us, we've needed some time just to recoup and process everything that we saw and did. We still haven't quite got over it. Being first timers it was a surreal experience. Going to the Con isn't our only first. For the first time ever, we're going to tell you an Aunty Social World story through audio. I know, don't laugh. To be honest, when we working out how to share our story of all that happened, there just wouldn't have been scope to share everything through the written word together. Even writing this now is a bit of a blather and I didn't even end up going to the Con (more on that to come). So, without further ado, here is our first Aunty Social Story. Straight from our brand new YouTube channel, we hope you like it... Do you have any Comic Con experiences that you would like to share? If so, feel free to share below and head over to our new YouTube channel where you can subscribe for future updates. L and J

Earlier this week I wrote a light-hearted reflection about being away from home and some of the things we experienced along the way. In that post, there were some points raised about boundaries and how for some of us, our own feel invisible. As a weird introvert trying to navigate this wild world of demands, I'm sure you will agree that we are all too often expected to fit within the boundaries of others. Whether this be meeting the needs of people who feel that their way is the right way, or more systemic boundaries that often tend to exclude those of us with disabilities or long-term illnesses. We live in a world where we are expected to be switched on and ready to give our attention to whoever commands it, and we're expected to respond to simultaneous demands in good nature. This world does not stop for one moment and for those of us in less powerful positions, it is often our boundaries that become blurred leading them to eventually become invisible. The result then, is that if we are expected to have no or few boundaries, what does this do to us in the long term? Is this why so many of us are burnt out, stressed out and experiencing such high levels of anxiety? I don't have the answer to this question, but what I do want to touch on here is the impact of our boundaries and needs being dismissed into transparency. I hope that by doing so we can begin to see the problems. By at least acknowledging this problem explicitly, maybe you and I together can find things that we share. Maybe we can begin to think through a collection of boundaries rather than just our own as I said in the earlier post, and maybe we can start to bring our own into a state of existence. Boundary setting is not easy when we don't have the power to fully assert ourselves, but I believe that there are ways that we can say 'No'. First, we need to become boundary hunters by recognising the level of demand that is placed upon us. Whether it's personal relationships, working life or even social media, demand is everywhere. I would hazard a guess that within an average day, many of us pick up our phones more times than we would like to admit. I don't know about you, but whenever my phone is next to me I feel a sense of unease. Because I know that within it, there is always going to be something waiting for me to answer or a digital bundle of stress about to be hurled my way. Our phones are often where our boundaries become lost. If I didn't have DND I don't know how I would be able to function. Truthfully, I wouldn't be able to at all. There is a book by Johann Hari (I often write about it), called Stolen Focus. This book writes widely about the impact of the digital era and what this is doing to our ability to focus. How in today's online world we are now more connected than ever before. We can speak to someone on the other side of the planet whilst simultaneously checking our emails and shirking off phone calls that slip through the protective net of DND. All of this 'multitasking' is just one surface symptom of the demand placed on us. We are expected to be a recipient in other people's conversations and for their problems, responding immediately. It's not only the expectation of immediacy. It's the sheer level of information fired our way. Over recent months, I've read pages and pages of other people's problems, at times quite disturbing and on occasion from people I've never met. This digital overload can quickly become overwhelming without boundaries. For those firing out these digital stress bundles, they may not have the same boundaries. They might have more time than us for one. They might be someone who responds to emails day and night and therefore think we should too, or they might be in a situation where they believe that their demand on us is the only demand. And that raises the next problem... We live in a neoliberal society, where we think of ourselves in terms of an individual frame rather than a collective. Sure, there are aspects of life where our group or social identities become more salient but when it comes to getting our needs met and establishing our boundaries, that is usually a very personal thing. It's individual and therefore it doesn't tend to be thought about through the lens of the collective. From what I have seen, it is usually only when something significant happens such as serious illness or bereavement, that demand is taken away from someone. But even then, the expectation tends to be that this is usually a temporary thing. I think for grief you are allowed around three posts on social before you begin to be unfollowed or muted depending on your circles. Crass point and perhaps a little off-topic, but the truth is that individuals have demands placed on them by other individuals with their own set of demands to address. Depending on the context, your social group and how much capital or power you have, the demand placed on you may be higher and your boundaries may be more or less visible. But when you don't have power, and you don't have a voice, this is when demand can be readily thrown at you and you are expected to just absorb it. Other people's needs and problems must come first and you must deal with whatever demand is placed on you. Except that's wrong. You don't have to reply to anything or anyone in the moment that they command it from you. One thing I have learnt, is that some of us don't like that but they can and will wait if that is what you need. So, as shown here, it's not just about the online world, a demanding family member or an unruly boss. The problem with asserting our boundaries is a minefield of ideology, economies and systems of power. In today's world we are given the belief that we have control over our own lives and boundaries, but do you truly believe we do? That's why I think we need to all become better boundary hunters before it's too late. Starting by thinking of boundaries not only as our own but as an entire network of boundaries. By doing so we may find more unity, become more compassionate and begin to step towards a world that can wait for a little while. Do you feel that your own boundaries have become lost in this world? Feel free to share your own experiences below or get in touch through our forum.

It’s been a while since I wrote for Aunty Social World. I feel I need to give a haphazard apology to myself (and perhaps to anyone who reads us) for that. Following a long and heavy summer and what has felt like a very blurred transition into autumn-come-Christmas (or wherever we are now), we have both been living in a state of regiment and routine. That rigidity has not altogether been a bad thing. Sometimes when we are going through something painful, we just need to press play and automate for a little while. Sometimes we need humour. Sometimes we need to laugh or else we’d cry. This weekend our tape of regiment was paused and we took some time away from home and routines. For the first time since our heavily blogged-about trip to the Highlands in the early part of the year, we left Pembrokeshire and took a trip down south to switch off, commemorate some stuff (including J’s birthday yesterday) and see new things. And my word, did we see it all. Sometimes, you have to step outside of your hometown to see this stuff. So here we are, home from away and the lessons we learned along the way. 1. Christmas has come early As I walked into a bright service station toilet on the 12th November, I was greeted by a cheery group sing-a-long of ‘deck-the-halls’. I checked my watch, thinking I’d perhaps zoned out an entire month. Not out of the question of late as I’ve been running on automated. I was right though, 12th November. 'Tis the season to be jolly, la-la-la-lah-lah…' I quickly barricaded myself into a cubicle, had the quickest jingle-all-the-way wee known to mankind, and gave a polite smile as I ejected myself before being asked to join in. Toilet sing-a-longs are only one part of this story. Christmas has certainly come early this year. I am by no means a Scrooge in this tale. I like Christmas. Me, my son, my dad and my brother all share Christmas birthdays (literally the same dates). It’s a special time personally, and I have great memories of years gone by (in addition to the stressful ones). But this year, for parents who are running a six-week Santa wait and shoppers wading through sprigs of holly and tinsel just to buy a loaf of bread, it raises the question of why so early? Lesson learned: I think we already know the answer here. It’s ok to enjoy Christmas, it’s also ok to think that Christmas in early November is overkill. We also know that in the society we live within it’s bigger than us as a nation of people or what we do with it. We are just the perfect targets for it. 2. Your boundaries are invisible Sausage rolls! What a marvellous idea Charlie, we’ll have some of those shall we?! The entire queue stopped in silence and stared as I quickly paid for my lunch. Thanks to the booming giant beside me, I now had an audience. Approximately fifty people were now basing their lunch decisions on my own. I was mortified. For those of us with social anxiety, our boundaries are usually quite different to those who are more ‘out there’ in this world. The problem is that those boundaries are quite often invisible resulting in a world where how we behave is based on our own frame of what we think is ok. So, in this case, the giant wanted to announce his lunch choice through the tannoy but brought me along for the ride. We’re all having sausage rolls today! The thing is some of us might not want a sausage roll, and we might want to decide if we do in private. Lesson learned: I'll keep this one brief, boundaries are everywhere in life but we all too often avoid anything outside of our own boxes. Adding to this, not everyone's boundaries are equally respected hence why some are less visible than others. So, perhaps we need to start thinking through a collection of boundaries rather than just our own. 3. You are a magnet Oh lovely, we’ll sit there too!… Said the two gentlemen walking into the cosy pub on a quiet weekday afternoon. You can guess where ‘there too’ was. That’s right. Next to us. This isn’t a new story for us. I’ve lost count of how often me and J have played musical chairs whilst eating out - hence why it doesn’t happen very often. This was the first time since our outdoor winter dining in Scotland earlier this year. Lesson learned: You are a magnet. We’ve all been bemused by ‘cosy parkers’ in empty car parks. It’s the same thing. People are magnets for other people. It’s how we decide what the best option is for ourselves. Be that in choosing who to follow on social media, where to go on holiday, or where to park our cars. If we follow other people who have already made their choice it makes it easier for us, right? Depends on the angle. If you are the person with social anxiety who has already gone to great efforts to choose a quiet spot away from others during a quiet period, it can be baffling. Why anyone would want to sit right next to you? Surely they would want to sit alone too? Here's those invisible boundaries springing up again. As someone with severe social anxiety, I cannot for the life of me ever imagine wanting to sit right beside someone else when eating out, but other people are different. They don’t have my boundaries and I don’t have theirs. So, we’re back to musical chairs. Tip and second lesson here: When eating out, always, always, or whenever possible ask for a quiet spot away from people. Most staff in restaurants, pubs and/or cafes understand and will be happy to assist (we’ve only been turned down a few times over years gone by - usually during exceptionally busy periods which we don’t try to navigate any more). However, the key thing (and this is really important) is that your quiet spot needs to be as far away from the ‘choosing point’ as possible. By that, I mean that it needs to be ideally out of view from the place where people stand waiting to be seated. Usually, this is where they will make their choice hence being the ‘choosing point’. It’s important to not be seen when fellow food hunters arrive, because if you are in a quiet spot, they will probably sit next to you as they want what you have. You are their magnet, not the table. 4. People are actually kind Warning, this story starts grotesque but ends well. We were shopping and both already completely head-fried with the noise of grunts, coughs and smells of sweaty feet. So when I finally found a box of shoes in my size and opened the box to find a pair of dirty mud covered loafers* that was it for me. The workings of a thief having left their dirty shoes in a box and making off with the pair I’d chosen. Passing the shoe box to a member of staff and explaining before someone assumed me to be the owner of this faux poo pair, she rolled her eyes and apologised, ‘Not again’. Then, right on cue, a man came wandering over exploding into a loud, handsfree phlegmy cough, pouring droplets all over the place. Having recently recovered from influenza, I was gone. I ran outside to catch some clean air away from the questionable mud, sweat and other human fluids and quickly grabbed my water bottle from my bag. In my flustered rush, I dropped the cap which went straight onto the ground inner lid down (doesn’t it always?). J was still trapped in the middle of his own shoe battle, so I took a walk over to a street food stall in the hope of finding an uncontaminated drink. Coming from Pembrokeshire, these kinds of places don’t usually have a card machine and I literally only had my watch as payment (I mean the smart pay thing, not the watch itself). With little hope of a drink offering, I was filled with relief when the man running the stall said, ‘Of course, no problem. You can use card here’. So, the man handed me a bottle of water and I thanked him before wandering off in a daze. It was halfway through the bottle that I realised that I hadn’t paid for it. Amidst my panic, now I’d become the thief. Seeing this as an omen that the poo shoes would shortly be finding their way back to me, I quickly ran back to the stall and apologised for my error. The man was completely chilled out though. He smiled calmly and said, ‘No problem, this time this is free for you. You can pay next time’. I promised I would. Lesson learned: Long and short, I didn’t manage to go back to the food stall as the shopping experience was a hellscape and we had to leave shortly after this. Of this entire grotesque story, however, I want to raise that even in the most stressful moments there are kind people to be found. And in this case, good food too. I’ve emailed the business owners of the stall today to thank them again personally. (* I hope it was mud. I cannot verify this as I didn’t hang onto them for long enough.) So, after a lengthy blog break, we hope you enjoyed this. They are just a few little takeaways from our own experiences of being away from home, with the end message being that of kindness. Because in a world of rampant rages and storms, there are moments of calm and kindness to be found too. We may be different, but not everyone is our enemy.