In reality it was so much more than just pitching a tent. I was going to a festival with my new bell tent that hadn’t even been out of its packaging, and I had decided that ‘Glamping’ was the way to go.
The friend who had arranged to come with me is very practical, which meant that pitching the tent would be a straightforward business. Unfortunately, it was the day before we were due to set off that I discovered my friend was unable to accompany me after all. I was faced with the daunting prospect of pitching the tent and filling it with Glamping goodies single-handed.
When I had finished packing the car, there was barely an inch of space left. I was determined to have a ‘luxury’ camping experience and, thanks to the fact that I had arranged for an electric hook up, I was able to include a heater and a fan to ensure a comfortable temperature in my tent.
In truth, I was more than a little daunted at the prospect of pitching my tent single-handed, particularly as it is made of “heavyweight canvas”. However, I really didn’t have much choice. Yet again, I had put myself into a situation in which I just had to get on with it, regardless of my dyspraxia and its accompanying difficulties.
I did it. I pitched the tent, unloaded the car and set up an enviable Glamping experience. It took some time to do it, admittedly, but I was proud of the results.
It isn’t always easy to do what we want to but, with determination, (a characteristic often associated with dyspraxia), we really can achieve anything we want to.
In reality it was so much more than just pitching a tent. I was going to a festival with my new bell tent that hadn’t even been out of its packaging, and I had decided that ‘Glamping’ was the way to go.
I’m sure most people who know me will already be aware that I am a member, and staunch supporter, of the Green Party, and I believe that, in a democratic country, a government should represent the majority of people who live in that country.
The situation we are in, following the general election 2015, is that we have in government a party that fewer than half of the people in the UK actually want. Whichever way you look at it, this system cannot pretend to be fair. I have only heard one argument in favour of the current, ‘first past the post’ voting system and that is that we are currently represented locally, and that would be lost if we were to adopt proportional representation as our voting system. That particular argument doesn’t wash with me on two counts. Firstly, there is no reason why we couldn’t be represented locally under a system of proportional representation and secondly, we do not have genuine local representation under the current ‘first past the post’ system.
As an example, I live only two miles away from Maidstone town centre. We are served by Maidstone Borough Council. We have a Maidstone postcode. We have a Maidstone prefix for our landline telephone number. We even have a Park & Ride bus service into Maidstone town centre that, somewhat ironically, we can easily reach by walking. (In fact, my youngest son always walks into town but he’s younger and fitter than I am!). So, as we regard ourselves, quite reasonably, as residents of Maidstone, it may come as some surprise to learn that we had to vote for parliamentary candidates in Faversham, which is twenty-one miles away! I have been to Faversham a few times in the past, but I have never regarded myself as a resident of Faversham, or even a resident of the Faversham outskirts and, unless I decide to actually move there, that’s not going to change.
I was present at the Maidstone count on Thursday night, (which was located, incidentally, within walking distance of my home), with my friends and colleagues in the Maidstone Green Party. It was a strange situation for me because the other members of the Maidstone Green Party had actually voted for Hannah Patton, the candidate we were there to support. With the bizarre boundaries that we have in place, I had been unable to vote for her but instead had to vote for Tim Valentine, in Faversham. I must make it absolutely clear that I have nothing against Tim who is, as it happens, a thoroughly decent bloke and, had I lived in Faversham, I would have been proud and delighted to be able to vote for him. My gripe is that he cannot be expected to represent the interests of those of us who live in Maidstone. In fact, the boundary of ‘Faversham and Mid-Kent’ even covers parts of Chatham, as well as other areas that must be close to thirty miles away from Faversham! I know that Tim made a stalwart effort to contact people in those areas that are way outside the region that can, under any other circumstances, be described as Faversham. Frankly, he had his work cut out and I’ve no doubt that he, together with the residents of Faversham, would much prefer to have a realistic boundary in place. I couldn’t blame them if they are outraged at the thought of those of us who rarely even visit Faversham having a say in issues that affect them, and them only. A cynic might suggest that bizarre boundaries such as ours have been put in place to manipulate votes, but surely that couldn’t happen in a civilised, democratic society, could it?! Perhaps we should question at what point we cease to be a civilised, democratic society.
Having destroyed the only argument I have heard against proportional representation, (‘representation’ being the operative word), I can also conclude that, should the system be implemented, it would put a stop to tactical voting. As far as I’m concerned, the practice of voting for a political party, other than the one we truly want to see in power, simply to prevent another party from ‘winning’, is an inevitable symptom of a system that is broken beyond repair. If we wish to continue to see ourselves as a democratic society, we must implement a drastic change from the current system, and proportional representation seems, to me, to be the only fair way of doing it.
I am now finding it rather ironic that those in favour of what I regard as the polar opposite of the Green Party; namely UKIP, would also benefit from a system of proportional representation. So, we currently have a system that is so badly broken it can even unite UKIP and the Green Party! Who’d have thought it?! Surely, it MUST be time for change.
If you agree, please sign the petition
The Power of Limiting Beliefs
As a hypnotherapist, I fully understand and appreciate the power of the mind particularly, to coin a phrase, ‘mind over matter’. In my work, I rely on the power of my clients’ minds to effect positive changes in their lives. As an adult who happens to have dyspraxia, which was undiagnosed until well into adulthood, I also appreciate the importance of positive thinking if those of us who have the condition wish to function, happily, in society.
Of course, as a hypnotherapist and as an adult who has dyspraxia, I am aware of the power of the mind when used to positive effect. However, our minds and beliefs are not restricted to working in a positive way. There’s no discrimination between ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ where our minds are concerned and beliefs, in particular, can wreak havoc when focused on the negative, making them powerful.
Recently, I’ve been giving a good deal of thought to the power that limiting beliefs can have over our lives. I have noticed, particularly, that this can happen all too easily with regard to dyspraxia and, unfortunately, limiting beliefs can also impact negatively within hypnotherapy.
To be honest, I could probably write a book about the power of limiting beliefs so please bear in mind that this short article is really just the tip of the iceberg. Firstly, I’m going to deal with the issue of limiting beliefs with regard to dyspraxia.
The power of limiting beliefs in Dyspraxia
I was fortunate to have grown up knowing absolutely nothing about dyspraxia and, for that, I’m grateful. That’s not to say my childhood was problem-free; quite the opposite, in fact. My schooldays, in particular, were extremely difficult, as I faced trial after trial, all day, every day, thanks to the fact that nearly everything on the curriculum appeared to have been designed to make life as difficult as possible for a child who has dyspraxia. In spite of that, I’m still thankful that I didn’t know about dyspraxia in those days. Actually, no-one did; certainly not my teachers, who were baffled by the fact that I was ‘bright’ but still struggled with nearly everything I was expected to do. The reason I’m thankful is because there were no limitations placed on me, by teachers, parents, psychologists or anyone else, because I’m dyspraxic. There were no allowances made for me because I’m dyspraxic and, while there were certainly times when I would have appreciated that, it meant that I, like everyone else, was encouraged to believe that I could aspire to be anything I wanted; to do anything I wanted.
It saddens me when I hear well-meaning people exclaim that their son, daughter, niece, nephew etc. will never be able to drive, for example, because he or she is dyspraxic, or that he or she will never be able to play sports because he or she is dyspraxic, along with a myriad of limited beliefs about dyspraxia, because the truth is, they probably won’t. That’s because if we hear something presented to us as fact often enough, we start to believe it. It frustrates me when, after explaining that I have been driving for more than thirty years without a single point or endorsement on my licence, I’m told that their son, daughter etc. must be more severely dyspraxic than I am, in that case. (As a matter of fact, my diagnosis states that I am “severely dyspraxic”). Those who believe it’s impossible for a dyspraxic person to learn to drive, play sports, play a musical instrument etc. etc. are so entrenched in their limiting belief that they have to find a ‘reason’ to justify it, hence, “If you can do that, you can’t be as severely dyspraxic as…”. In fact, anyone who has dyspraxia can learn and accomplish anything they want to. It will probably take longer than it would for their neuro-typical peers, and it’s likely to be more difficult, but it certainly isn’t impossible.
This is the message that my dear friend, and fellow dyspraxic, Matthew Munson, and I work hard to get across, in our roles as The Two Dyspraxics (T2D).
The power of limiting beliefs in Hypnotherapy
I am in the unusual situation of having been brought up by a hypnotherapist; my father, Bob Neill. He was practising hypnotherapy before I was even born, (and I celebrated my 60th birthday recently), albeit it in a small way at that time because generally speaking people weren’t open or forward thinking enough to accept hypnotherapy to the extent that it is accepted today. So Dad was something of a trailblazer, and I’m very proud of him for that.
For most of the seventies and eighties, Dad was the only hypnotherapist in Maidstone, Kent, where we lived, and was in increasing demand as hypnotherapy gained popularity, due in no small way to him and his reputation. In fact, his reputation spread to such an extent that one of his clients travelled all the way from the USA to England, specifically to see him. During the decades that he was practising, Dad developed his own technique. He always aimed for complete success in one session of hypnotherapy and, for the vast majority of his clients he achieved it, because no-one had told them it couldn’t be done. He readily accepted that some clients might need a second and, in very rare cases, even a third session. Because he saw hypnotherapy as a means to empower his clients, (as I do, my clients, I hasten to add), he would always leave the decision to them as to whether or not they felt they needed a second session.
As hypnotherapy has gained in popularity, there are many more hypnotherapists nowadays, (and a very wide variety of hypnotherapy training schools), and we can be spoilt for choice when choosing which one to visit. Perhaps not surprisingly, there are many different techniques and methods used so it’s unlikely that two hypnotherapists will work in exactly the same way. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the techniques employed by hypnotherapists vary widely from one to another. For example, because of my background, I was horrified when I first heard of hypnotherapists who wanted their clients to commit to a series of sessions in order to address one single issue. Regardless of the fact that probably all professions have their share of charlatans, I’m not suggesting, for a moment, that this is the case as far as my colleagues are concerned. In fact, I know several hypnotherapists who don’t aim for success in one session, whose integrity is certainly not in question. I have no doubt that they believe more than one session will be necessary because that is what they have been taught and, in consequence, they have limited beliefs about the power of hypnotherapy and its ability to be successful in a single session.
I asked a number of colleagues, recently, how many sessions they would expect a client to book in order to deal with one issue and the response was incredible. I suspect that particular debate will rumble on for some time to come. I was dismayed to find that those of us who expect success in one session appear to be in the minority. This is where the power of limiting beliefs comes in. Even complex issues can be simplified enough for the mind of a hypnotherapy client to deal with positively, in one session, and it doesn’t have to keep being reinforced; unless that client strongly believes that more than one session will be needed. So what happens, effectively is that the client has heard, be it on the grapevine, from other therapists or wherever, that success cannot be achieved in one session, and then goes on to believe that to be the case, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. In other words, the limiting belief would have to be tackled before the therapy itself could begin.
I was saddened very recently, when a client told me that he had been advised that he would need at least four to six sessions. There is no way in the world that any therapist could know that in advance of seeing the client. We are all individuals. Some individuals are so open to the power of their own minds that they ‘get’ how important it is to accept that they can make positive changes quickly and easily and, guess what; they’re the ones who do exactly that.
I have had to make a drastic decision in my hypnotherapy practice because of the power of limiting beliefs. There are now so many people who are being led to believe that they cannot achieve success in one session of hypnotherapy that I have had to make a small change to the way I work, without compromising my values. From now on, when a client comes to see me, at the end of the session of hypnotherapy depending on how they feel, they will have the option of paying for the one session, or booking up to two more sessions (at a reduced cost), if they really believe that more sessions will be needed. There is one thing about the way I work that will never change. I will always aim for complete success in one session, regardless of anyone else’s limiting beliefs.
For more information about hypnotherapy and/or dyspraxia:
I honestly never thought I’d live to see the day when I could pee standing up. I’m female, you see, and always have been. Now, I have in my possession, a little gadget that rewrites the rules when it comes to peeing.
I’m sure most of us must have heard of the ‘She-wee’ by now. It’s effectively a funnel that’s shaped to fit ‘lady parts’ and direct a flow of urine away from the body. I have to confess that when these items first appeared on the market, I was one of those doubting Thomas’s who couldn’t really see the advantage in such an item and I suppose I could have been accused of, well, taking the piss. It’s a different story, now, though.
My interest in these revolutionary funnels was sparked when I was making plans to go to a festival later in the summer. I would be camping for three nights and feasting my ears on live music. Brilliant! I wasn’t, however, looking forward to the much maligned experience of using festival toilets. I’ve done that countless times over the years and it’s never a pleasant experience, so I decided to make my own arrangements.
A bucket in the tent seemed a bit of a crude option, but I actually considered it, albeit briefly. Nowadays, it’s possible to buy buckets that are shaped like toilets and have a toilet seat, (complete with lid). Although this may seem like a more civilised option it is still a bucket with a lid, whichever way you look at it.
With the ‘bucket’ idea all but dismissed, my attention turned to alternatives and I was amazed to discover that it’s possible to buy bags, (such as Bog in a Bag), that contain a gel that absorbs urine and neutralises odour; is thoroughly hygienic and can be disposed of in a rubbish bin. Eureka! These bags, together with the aforementioned ‘She-wee’ could revolutionise my festival experience!
Conducting my research on the Internet, I discovered that that there are now several alternatives to the She-wee. I decided on a Whiz Freedom, as it is more pliable, is claimed to be completely leak-proof and happens to be purple. I love purple! No more long queues for the loos, with an unpleasant, smelly toilet at the end of it. No more traipsing across the campsite in the wee (sorry!) small hours. Whiz Freedom would, indeed, be as liberating as its name suggests.
In the early days of the She-wee, I failed to be grabbed by the joys of being able to pee standing up but, now that I can see a very positive use for this little device, I have actually gone ahead and invested in one.
My juvenile side can’t help hoping my female friends will follow my lead. Then we could all discover that previously forbidden joy of seeing who can pee highest up the wall!
Well, arguably against the odds, the back of the jumper is finished and the wool has been cast off. I can’t believe it only took a week to get that far. I was hoping to get the jumper finished by Christmas… 2015! It looks as though I may hit that target, with time to spare!
Before I get started ‘casting on’ for the front of the jumper, I can’t help being a little bit amused at how the few remaining stitches in the middle of the back are being secured. They’re held in place by a nappy pin; one of MY nappy pins, from when I was a baby. At last, a use for it after all these years. ;-)
As I’ve said before, I’ve ever considered myself a ‘natural’ when it comes to knitting. Dyspraxia doesn’t help, of course. My fine motor skills, as a dyspraxic person, are as expected; not brilliant. However, I do like a challenge now and again and, in spite of my earlier misgivings, I have made progress with my knitting project that I can hardly believe.
After only five days, I have something that is beginning to look more like a jumper than just a few rows of knitting on a needle. Because I have chosen stripes of different colours, it has helped to spur me on; looking forward to the next colour-change, which has, undoubtedly aided progress. Tying the ‘new’ colour onto the existing one is, I’m finding, very challenging as it’s quite reminiscent of that old dyspraxia favourite, ‘tying shoelaces’.
However, I won’t focus on that. I shall, instead, revel in the progress I’ve made, so far, and keep my sights on the next stage in the process. Time to go now. I have some knitting to do.
Writer;s block; it’s something everyone has heard about and it can be so frustrating when it happens. Maybe you have a deadline to meet but the words just aren’t flowing.
I have been blessed with dyspraxia and, although it has its associated difficulties, I use the word, “blessed” because creativity tends to be a by-product of dyspraxia and, for that reason, I am rarely short of ideas. That includes ideas for projects, including writing projects. I have lots of ideas for stories but, realistically, I will never be able to write all of them. That’s why I’ve decided to publish, here, in my blog, some of those ideas. Please help yourself to any story ideas triggered by these ‘blogs’ for stories that have yet to be written. You may be the very writer that the blurb has been waiting for!
Blurb 1 – Andrew’s Secret
Marion is delighted when Andrew, the mysterious and captivating man she has been dating for the past few weeks, invites her to join him on a weekend away. A stark contrast to Marion’s controlling ex-husband, Andrew showers her with gifts, flowers and undivided attention.
Envisaging luxurious spas and four-poster beds, Marion can’t wait to see the surprise venue that Andrew has arranged for them, but is stunned when he parks his car outside a disused block of flats. The surrounding area is deserted and Marion begins to fear for her safety. Andrew, on the other hand, has a gleam in his eye and a horrifying secret in the boot of his car.
There is an even easier way to combat not only writer’s block, but also procrastination, keeping to deadlines and other problems experienced by writers, and it can be done, easily, in less than half an hour! All you have to do is download and listen to The Neill Technique for Writers mp3, available for a limited time only at just $16.75 (approximately £10). The Neill Technique has helped aspiring writers and established authors alike, and is suitable for novelists, article writers, web authors, songwriters etc. Check it out now!
Oh my God! What have I done? It all seemed so straightforward when I was looking at knitting patterns and choosing the colours of the wool. There’s a really nice, long knitted jacket thingy and, on the same pattern, a jumper. My Mum, an avid knitter for as long as I can remember, until a carpal tunnel op curtailed her knitting escapades, has very kindly offered to knit said jacket thingy while I, in a moment of madness, agreed to knit the jumper.
Snag number one; I have only ever knitted baby clothes. A proper, full-size adult’s jumper is a massive step into the unknown, and it’s scary. Way back in my primary school days, I was supposed to be knitting a pair of mittens, during craft lessons I think it was. In fact, I used to take the knitting home and my Mum, bless her heart, would knit a few rows so I could take it back to school having shown a modicum of progress. Yes; I know it’s cheating but the thought of actually knitting those mittens myself, was more than I could cope with. The colour of those mittens has burned itself into my memory like a branding iron, but such was the pain associated with their production, I don’t remember ever having worn them.
When son number one was on the way, I discovered something that was very nearly an obsession for knitting. I blame the hormones. I knitted like a thing possessed; countless little baby-sized jumpers, bootees, hats. When my son arrived, he had more knitted baby clothes than he could ever have worn… but that was a long time ago. It’s a very different story now.
I was still enthusiastic while I was choosing the wool, deciding what size needles to use and so on. Then came the crunch. I had to actually start knitting. To my amazement, I could remember how to do the first part of stocking stitch; a row of plain stitches. I wonder if I can remember how to do perl. I’m about to find out.
When I was a child I loved ice lollies. In that respect, at least, I was no different from most other children. However, instead of just taking off the wrapper, discarding it and devouring the lolly, I would remove the wrapper, fold it carefully and wrap it round the lolly stick because I couldn’t bear the feel of the wooden stick. It would set my teeth on edge to touch it.
I rarely eat ice lollies nowadays but, if I did, I would still cover the stick with the wrapper because I still don’t like the feel of the wooden stick. I think I’ve learned a little more tolerance over the years but, in spite of that, I still suffer with low tolerance of certain textures. Occasionally, I’ll enjoy a bag of chips from a fish and chip shop and, because I like to keep my hands clean, I’ll happily use one of the small wooden chip forks, normally available from a dispenser on the counter. I can tolerate the feel of the chip fork in my hand and I can remove the chip, easily, with my mouth but I wasn’t aware of the avoidance strategy I was using until a couple of days ago.
Quite by chance, I happened to bump into none other than my dear friend and colleague, Matthew Munson, who is also the other half of The Two Dyspraxics, (look us up on Facebook and/or YouTube if you haven’t encountered us before). We were at the same conference. It was lunchtime and the only hot food available consisted, mainly, of noodles. That, in itself, could be a tall order for dyspraxics but both Matthew and I have developed coping strategies for eating, especially in public, (see www.bneill-hypnotherapy.com for more details of my coping strategy). The actual ‘eating’ of the noodles wasn’t a huge problem but the only cutlery available consisted of wooden chopsticks or wooden forks. I used to eat Chinese food with chopsticks but that was a long time ago and I’m bound to be a bit rusty by now, so I opted for the wooden fork. The noodles tasted very nice, and holding the fork in my hand wasn’t too bad but the feel of the wooden fork in my mouth was almost unbearable.
I have to say that, because it’s very unusual for me to use wooden cutlery, my reaction came as quite a surprise. It just goes to show that regardless of how long we have been living with dyspraxia, (in my case, nearly sixty years), there’s always something new, and interesting, to discover. As a result of this latest discovery I will, of course, develop a hypnotherapy programme to help.
Details of Barbara’s new book; “Dyspraxia and Hypnotherapy” can be found here: http://www.barbara-neill.co.uk
No; I haven’t forgotten how to use grammar. I’m quoting; well, almost.
This morning, I went into one of those small, local branches of Tesco, (one of those that replaced independent retailers, but that’s another story). I just wanted a bottle of water and a snack and I noticed that both of the items I wanted formed part of the ‘meal deal.’ I wasn’t totally sure what constituted a meal deal but, when I noticed some small bags of prepared fruit, I assumed that they would probably be included as well. I searched, in vain for a poster, or sign, that would confirm exactly what I could buy as part of the meal deal but, becoming increasingly frustrated at the lack of such information, I eventually decided to ask at the checkout.
“Could you please tell me exactly what constitutes a meal deal?” I asked the young woman at the checkout. “Everything with a red sticker” she responded, at least trying to be helpful. “Yes; I know that,” I replied, “but I wondered if you have a poster or something that shows exactly which items you can have, to make up the meal deal.” I was astounded by her next reply; “We did have one but we took it down.” “Really? You took it down?” By way of explanation, she offered, “It didn’t make no sense to some people.”
To be honest, the fact that it was taken down at all didn’t make no sense to me!