Sherlock and Enola 

So I’ve been working on a story idea for the past few years. I’ve written and re-written scenes, created and destroyed characters and ideas… This is a small snippet that I have decided to share so that I can get some honest feedback. 

I decided to share it now because, any BBC Sherlock fans will have now been introduced to the mysterious “third Holmes” a sister. 

As I said, I’ve been working on this for a few years. The main storyline focusing on the Holmes sister, Enola. I don’t intend to compete in any way with Moffat and Gatiss, they’re much better at this whole writing thing than I am! But I just wanted to share my own idea, because I’m proud of it and because I had this idea before the show… 

So without further ado, I would like to introduce, the third Holmes, Enola.. 
She ran forwards, towards the men. She was not a tall girl by any means, but she was more powerful
than she looked. Se careered straight into the first man, knocking him to the ground with a well-executed rugby tackle. She quickly knocked his temple against the cement and sprang up to face her
second rival. He had his arms outstretched just about to enclose around her neck, she gave him a brutal side kick in the ribs. As he stumbled she kicked his temple, leaving both men in a heap,
unconscious in an alleyway in the centre of London.  

She walked away slowly, limping slightly, but trying not to show it. As she reached the end of the
alley way she clicked her fingers and immediately, two ragged figures jumped out from beneath a
pile of rubbish and began to tie the hands of the two beaten men. She turned slightly towards the
figures and said, in a voice just above a whisper, “Mycroft, what have you been doing without me to
clean up you messes?” 


Sherlock was bored. It was a Tuesday, and oh God how he hated Tuesdays. If there was anything he
hated more than Tuesdays he couldn’t think of it right now. He turned away from the window and
continued composing a tune on his violin. Mrs Hudson had been here moments ago, he thought, but
as he looked at the clock he realised than several hours had passed since he had last looked up for
the landlady. Oh well, he thought, shrugging, she was never much help anyway, always nattering on
about some politician or some TV personality. It really wasn’t very useful.  

John entered downstairs. Sherlock knew it was John because he didn’t knock or ring, but used his
key. He took several short strides across the hallway- “new shoes” Sherlock noted- And then shouted
hello to Mrs Hudson. He had never quite mastered the art of subtlety…  

“News for you Sherlock, from you brother”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and began to play a tune on his violin, “Really John you should close the door
quicker as you enter, strays get in and you know how Mrs Hudson hates swine… Oh, talking of
which, hello Mycroft” 

Mycroft smiles from the doorway but says nothing.

“Sherlock, it seems interesting… and important”

“Oh please” he spat, dropping his arms to his sides, “if it were that important he would have come in
person straight away instead of calling you”

“Well he did call you first but you didn’t answer”

“Exactly, why would I answer a phone call from him?”

“Why indeed” Mycroft crooned from the doorway, “I knew that you wouldn’t take this quite as
seriously as John and I also knew that, owing to recent events…” he trailed off and studied the sword
stabbed into the wall above the mantelpiece beside a garish bear-claw, “I thought I would ask John
to tell you… However, having spoken to John I realised that he had not understood the matter nearly
as well as I had hoped,” 

John looked briefly taken aback, offended even, but then shrugged and sat down on the sofa and
picked up a biscuit from the plate Mrs Hudson had left several hours ago. He was well used to the
brothers talking down to him and chose to pay no attention to the slander

She walked towards him, anger burning in her eyes. John was concerned, yes, she was a fairly small,
innocent looking woman- wait, woman? Girl? She looked in her late teens but something about the
way she carried herself led him to believe that she was older than she looked. Either way, she looked
harmless but the malice in her eyes was very concerning to him as she walked closer to Sherlock.  
“Enola, please” Mycroft said softly from the door, “He is, of course, family”

“Family my ar-“

“Sorry what? Who is?” John interrupted

“She is,” Mycroft nodded toward the girl-woman

“Yes, and SHE has a name, thank you” she said, turning back to Sherlock, “But of course, my dear
brother, hasn’t told anyone about me at all has he? As far as anyone is concerned I never existed, or,
as the rest of my family are aware I DIED!” she ended in a shout that made John flinch, “Dead! Is that
what I am? What would that make me now? A ghost?” 

“Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?” John shouted, interrupting the steely
glare of the girl and jolting Sherlock out of a trance- like state as he stared at his, his sister?

“Brother mine, would you care to…? No? Perhaps then-“Mycroft was cut off by a demonic stare as
the girl turned and hurled herself into a chair. “I see. Well, John, this is our… estranged sister,” he
gestured towards the girl, who shrugged and raised a hand lazily in greeting, “her name is Enola…
she is 22 if you’re wondering although clearly she looks much younger. The Australian climate I
would expect…” he smiled knowingly 

John stared at Mycroft for a few seconds, his mouth slightly opened, as he tended to do when he
was processing a lot of information. Before switching his gaze to the 22 year old who was now rifling
through her pockets for her smart phone. “I don’t understand. How was she “dead”?” 

Mycroft stiffened slightly “it is a complex matter…”

“But your parents. They never mentioned a daughter. They-“

“-thought I was dead” the girl, Enola, interrupted. “They thought I died in a Middle Eastern bombing
at the age of 6” she glared at Sherlock, “and why did they think that? WHY? BECAUSE MY BIG
DEAD!” she roared at the still figure of Sherlock Holmes, “AND WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO SAY FOR
YOURSELF YOU… YOU… YOU-“her rampage was cut short as Mycroft grabbed the girl by the

“I think… our family has had quite enough death thank you” as he heaved her back into her chair,
she gave him a reproachful look before folding her arms and glaring at Sherlock 

“However, Sherlock, she has a point… what have you got to say for yourself?” Mycroft paused for a
moment. Sherlock remained silent, “We all thought she had died, Sherlock. I didn’t believe her when
she contacted me…”he trailed off, continuing to look at his brother

“I trusted you” Enola whispered, “You were my big brother, taking me on an adventure across the
world and I trusted you to look after me… and I waited. I waited Sherlock, I thought you would come
looking, I thought you would come back but you didn’t ”she sounded close to tears as she said these
words, “YOU BLOODY DIDN’T AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU” she roared once again rearing up to
hit him but was once again resrained by Mycroft.

John was under the impression that the girl could have fought off Mycroft’s grip with one hand had
she wanted to, but perhaps she didn’t want to hurt her brother quite as much as she wanted him to

Mycroft kept his hand on Enola’s arm in a comforting brotherly way. Something John had never seen
before from Mycroft, a sign of affection. John was slightly caught off guard by this show of affection
from Mycroft and he stared for a little bit too long at the girls shoulder. Mycroft cleared his throat,
“Sherlock” it was not a question, but a demand for answers, spoken with the force of a politician but
the gentleness of a brother, “Please. Help us to understand. For Enola’s sake.” He said quietly before
speaking louder, almost in a shout, but worse than a shout, the voice a mother uses on her child
when she has gone beyond anger and on to disappointment, “Sherlock tell us what the hell

Sherlock sat still for a moment, looking down. Contemplating, perhaps. Or maybe planning a lie. This
is what Mycroft seemed to think as he eyed his brother with contempt, “the truth, Sherlock”.

Sherlock glanced up at his brother before shifting his gaze slowly to his sister. His hands, which had
originally been placed fingers together in front of his face, now slowly fell so rest on the arms of the
chair. He sighed softly, never moving his gaze away from Enola. He continued to look at the girl as
she lifted her gaze to meet his. They studied each other for a few moments in utter silence, drinking
in each other’s features, wordlessly speaking to one another about their years apart. A tender
moment shared between two siblings, broken only by the ticking of the clock and the traffic going by

Mycroft cleared his throat, “if you don’t mind, brother mine, I have got some urgent business to
attend to, so… hurry up” 

Sherlock’s gaze snapped up to give him a reproachful look before looking once again at Enola. His gaze had become one of interest and acceptance. An open, almost eager look as she stared at
Sherlock and waited to hear his side of the story. 

Sherlock took a deep breath, threw himself to his feet and began to pace as he spoke…


16 years earlier…

It was dark, there were people shouting and screaming everywhere. Sherlock was running and Enola
was by his side, running with him. He glanced down at her and she looked up at him, they shared a
smile. He had known she would enjoy this, the danger, the thrill of the chase. And Enola was
enjoying it. Spending time with her big brother, her best friend, her hero. Sherlock ran harder,
pulling his sister along with him.  

Enola was loving this trip, her parents hadn’t wanted her to go, but she has snuck off with Sherlock
in the middle of the night and got a boat out to sea before smuggling themselves into a lorry with some refugees. She stumbled over something, a rock? A body? Everything was going so fast she
couldn’t tell anymore, it hurt though, whatever she had kicked, but she took a breath as she thought
about the pain in her leg, the pain in her lungs, pain would only slow her down, she didn’t need it.
Sherlock had taught her to hide the things she didn’t need, pain, sadness, fear, things that would
slow her down, to hide them in a special part of her brain, in a box, behind a door so that they
wouldn’t bother her or cloud her judgement. As she ran she also committed each turn to memory so
that she wouldn’t get lost if anything would happen, but Sherlock had promised that nothing bad
would happen as long as she stuck by him, and she believed him with all of her heart. 

Suddenly and completely out of nowhere the screaming and shouting intensified. Fire exploded into
the sky in front of them as they ran. Buildings were on fire and bits of plaster were raining down on
top of them as they sprinted towards a gap in the fire. Running as hard as they could, Enola began to
fall behind but Sherlock kept a firm, almost painful grip on her hand as he kept running.

There was a shout from behind them as they ran. Suddenly, the whole world was on fire. Plaster was
tumbling down from every direction. The earth gave a jolt and they were sent sprawling across the
ground as the ground gave an almighty roar and everything in Sherlock’s world went dark.


Enola woke with a start. The world was pitch black and everything was quiet. She was lying on her
face. She looked up and saw a dark silhouette stumbling around in the dark, Sherlock? Before she
could open her mouth a hand was pressed over hers. She gasped and turned her head, Sherlock was
there, a finger to his lips telling her to keep her mouth shut. She nodded slowly and he removed his
hand and looked at the shadowy figure as it stumbled closer through the dust and smoke.

Suddenly he was on his feet, running towards the figure, he turned back and shouted “wait for me,
I’ll be back, I promise” before colliding with the figure and pushing it backwards out of sight around
the corner. Enola sat where she was, for a few moments listening to the sounds of the scuffling
going on around the corner before she heard a hard punch being thrown, a groan and then silence.
She got up slowly and moved quickly and quietly over to the corner, pressing herself against the wall
as she peered round. There was a body, the body of a man. It wasn’t Sherlock, he had blond hair and
an arrogant face. His nose was broken and he was unconscious. Enola looked up, Sherlock was
nowhere to be seen. She sprinted towards the next corner and turned it, she looked down the
alleyway and saw the unmistakeable silhouette of her brother running away. 

“Sherlock wait for me!” she shouted, but he kept running. Enola struggled to keep up with him, even
though the fire was gone, her lungs still burned from the smoke. She reached the next corner and
looked around it, gasping for breath. Sherlock was gone. And he would never return.


He had put her in danger and it was all his fault. She was his sister and she was in danger because
they were after him. Every second she spent with him, her life was at risk. He hadn’t thought they
would follow him out this far, he thought they would be safe.

The JKcrew had been after him in England too, he had known that. That was the reason he had
fled. He thought that maybe if he went abroad, they would give up their search. He had busted several of their drug houses as well as an illegal weapons ring. He thought they were just another
London street gang but he was wrong, this went much deeper than the streets of London. 

He looked around and saw that Enola had given up her chase. He had to leave her behind, he would
try and send someone to fetch her and bring her home, but he had work to do. He shut his feelings

in a box, behind a door in his head. His feelings for his sister, the love and worry he had for her, not
knowing that this door would not be opened for another 16years.


Present Day…

Sherlock had no emotions. He wasn’t capable of crying, tears, to him, were a sign of weakness,
crying a sign of brokenness and an inability to control oneself.  

And yet, John Watson pondered, his eyes were glistening as he shared his tale. He barely looked at

any of them as he spoke rapidly, as though hoping to save himself from these feelings by telling the
story as quickly as possible. He kept pacing and looking either at the floor or the window. None of
the trio left sitting down could take their eyes off him as he spoke.  

John snuck a glance at Enola and saw that her eyes too, were glassy as she watched her brother tell his tale.

Sherlock had just reached the point where the two of them were separated, explaining that it was

his fault- that he had put his sister in danger, that he had to get away so that she could stay safe,

“It’s my fault,” he whispered, “ITS MY FAULT!” he shouted this time, pulling at his hair as he spun

from the window to look at his sister. There was no mistaking the tears in his eyes now as he glared
at Enola, as though it was her fault for making him feel these things. His hands were shaking as he

moved them down to his sides, taking a deep, shuddering breath before composing himself and
sitting down once again in silence. 

“You… You mean you didn’t just leave?” Enola queried quietly, timidly, in a shaking voice from her

chair. Her eyes were wide as she looked at Sherlock unblinking in the light of the dreary afternoon.

Sherlock snapped his attention up towards her and simply stared at her, again, unblinking and
perfectly still.  

It was as though they were communicating without words or movement. Can they mind read? Ae

they telepathic? He asked himself as he watched the interior monologue going on between the

The silence was broken by a stifled sniff from Mycroft as he looked at his sister and brother.

Everyone turned to look at him as he hastily wiped his nose and looked up.

“You were saying, Sherlock, that you had intended to send someone to pick up Enola… Did that

happen?” He looked now to Enola who looked back and nodded before pausing, with a look of

contemplation on her face. She turned slowly to face Sherlock once again,

“Yes… I mean… I think so…” she said slowly, “I mean, someone found me…” She continued to look at
her brother, who continued to look back in a static silence.

“Tell us what happened to you, Enola, tell us who collected you” Mycroft urged, and Enola obeyed. 
16 Years earlier, a burnt out side street deep in the Middle East…

She had never felt this alone before. She had been left to loom after herself plenty of times at home.
She had spent many a day at her parents’ home by herself, she had never had any friends at school
so spent the majority of her days alone and had never felt loneliness like this.
She knew her way around London and much of the English countryside with no need of a map. She
knew the states of America and their location on a map, she could draw and label an entire map of
Europe from the age of 3 but she had never felt so lost.

Data. She needed Data. 

My Eyesight

I was born with 1 third normal vision (I could say “OCA Type 1B with associated Nystagmus” but that would mean nothing to you, and even google can struggle with it) so I think its fair to say that after 21 years I’ve got used to it. The first time I was really aware that I was “different” was at primary school when I couldn’t see the blackboard/whiteboard and my P1 teacher actually yelled at me and sent me to the back of the classroom where she proceeded to read what was on the board so I could write it down (through my tears!). That was really the only negative experience I had a primary school. Everyone accepted me for who I was, and the teachers were more than helpful doing their best to ensure that I could keep up with all the notes. The kids were cool about it too- I was one of them, I just had binoculars which were fun to play with! I couldn’t do the 11+ test like everyone else and had to do different tests to see whether I was clever enough for grammar school (I passed- yay!). But other than that never really felt “different”.
Secondary school was a little bit different. We had to change classrooms for each lesson so myself (and my twin sister) got a classroom assistant. We only knew each other because everyone else from primary school went to different schools. We got a classroom assistant who followed us around to make sure we didn’t’ walk into anything… Yeah, blind but not THAT blind. It’s fair to say that my sister and I were TERRIBLE to her! (SORRY!) We got to the end of a corridor or the top of a flight of stair and split off into different directions and walking around to a pre-arranged location. It took the teachers a while to get the balance right between, letting us do our own thing and giving us ALL THE HANDOUTS. It was quite irritating to have to balance books and A3 pages on the desk… The kids at secondary school were less accepting of our eyesight than at primary school. We were stared at. A lot. I guess it didn’t help that we were twins… We got bullied a bit, which sucked. I was a very shy kid and didn’t like to make a fuss about things… Eventually I made some great friends who accepted my weirdness (not just my eyesight) and helped me out a lot! By lower sixth I had decided that I was pretty happy with who I was and if other people weren’t or thought I was weird, then that was their problem. I was more confident than before and with the teachers I was able to tell them “No I do not need enlarged papers. This is fine I can deal with it” or actually something similar to “Don’t do anything unless I ask”. Those final two years of school were the best because I was more open about everything. People asked me questions about my eyesight (which is SO MUCH BETTER than just staring at me!) and they seemed to understand it better!
Duke of Ed was quite fun. I have a good sense of direction- hey, I have to! I can’t rely on road signs like everyone else. I have to describe the area like “Is that the place past the big yellow house with the white front door with the six fields of sheep beside the stable?”! Even though I had to look at the map quite close and finding bearings on the compass was pretty much to the nearest 5 degrees or so, I usually just went in roughly the right direction keeping an eye out for trees and hills that should hopefully be in the right places!
… and then I left and went to university. I was already pretty happy with who I was BUT I had to go through the whole explanation of “yeah I can’t see things so well so I have to use binoculars” and “no glasses don’t help” and “no I can’t get laser eye surgery because that won’t help either”. I had to say those sentences so often I was tempted to get it on a t-shirt… Student support were good and tried to help explain to lecturers but eventually it came down to me (and my twin, she’s still there) to approach every lecturer and say “hey we can’t see can we please get a print out or can you email us the tuff in advance” and MOST lecturers were great and by our second year field trip everyone pretty much understood, and those who didn’t came and asked us questions “can you see that?” (“no”). I was able to join rugby and rowing. I got hit in the face at rugby. A lot. But I loved (and love) it still! (I’m not even sure I ever told them about my eyesight). Final year was great, apart from one time when twin and I got lost in Barcelona because we couldn’t see the street numbers and everyone around us spoke Spanish… I honestly loved uni, it was one of the greatest experiences of my life and I’ve made some great friends there!
Graduated uni, with a few struggles but who doesn’t have tough times? And started looking for work. I feel obliged to put on my CV and job applications. I haven’t got very far in most job applications… Some companies have stated that I would not be suitable for the job because I have a visual impairment (even though I am qualified!?) which is annoying to say the least, but some (very few though) are more open to the idea, allowing me to attend an interview… yet they never ask about my eyesight. Personally I think they should enquire more about it rather than just accept it and move on, but maybe that’s just me.
That’s pretty much it so far…

Some random points before the end:
– I don’t always feel comfortable telling people about my eyesight because I feel like, a lot of the time, it makes them think of me differently. Usually I get to know the person first and let them find out OR wait a while and then tell them about it… Sometimes I’ve started straight off with “Hi I’m Judith, I can’t see very well, let me explain…”
– Leading on from that- when I tell people about my eyesight I much prefer it when I can use an example, so, if I’m standing near a sign I would point at t and make them stand where they feel comfortable reading it and then show where I can read it from (or use a piece of paper with writing on it)
– It’s awkward at times, trying to read signs in cafes or the number on the bus- I hate asking people for help, I’m very independent!
– Because I can’t drive it frustrates me a lot, like, I don’t have the same freedom as everyone else (and I know that not everyone drives a car but at least they have the chance?!) Seriously if I had a car I would never be at home… Or if I didn’t have to walk a few miles to get a bus I would probably not be at home much either!

F.A.Q: If science improves and there is a way to fix your eyes, would you get surgery that would correct your vision?
Honestly, no. It’s been 21 years and I’ve learned how to adapt to the world around me. It would be really strange to suddenly see everything up close and in huge detail. Although maybe it would be interesting to see “how the other half lives” so that I can see what most other people can see, maybe it would help me to explain my eyesight to you! But no, I can’t imagine my life with full vision. I know that sometimes I’ll go off on one and rant about how unfair it is, but I also love making blind jokes and sarcastic comments when someone says “Oh look over there isn’t that so cool?!” like “um yeah I’m sure it’s great”! But honestly I love my life the way it is- I’ve adapted and I’m determined…Please, someone hire me?


Hope. That small voice that says “keep going” and “one more try”. That small fire blazing inside us that keeps us going. That gives us something to live for. But what happens if that fire goes out? 
Well firstly, where is your hope found? 

In that dream job? In all that money you’ve been saving? Your family or friends? 

Or something else…? 
If your hope is based on something meaningless it’ll hurt when you lose that. Your hope will flicker and you’ll fall down a deep, dark hole. 
I’ve been there and it sucks. 
It felt like everything had been stripped from me. My friends. My securities. Everything I knew had changed and suddenly I knew nothing and no one. Everything was going wrong and suddenly I felt so alone and cut off from everything. 

But there was something there. Something that wouldn’t let my fire die. Faith. 

I don’t intend to turn this all churchy and preachy. All I’m saying is that my hope is in God. And when I felt so lost and broken and beaten down, I turned to him. When it felt like I had no hope I turned to THE hope. 

It wasn’t some big miraculous turn around with blazing lights and hallelujahs. It was simply being refreshed every day. Being given the strength to get through one day at a time, one minute at a time. Baby steps. 

My hope was still burning and I had strength to go on. 

I didn’t realise it at the time but my hope had firm foundations in something (someONE) who could help me and who DID help me. 
When I first went to university it was like jumping out of a plane before a sky dive. Suddenly there was nothing beneath my feet, I was alone and I was free and I was terrified. My “parachute” failed and I panicked and felt lost and alone. Everything seemed to be going wrong.

Until I remembered my back up. My lifeline. 

My hope.  
So if you feel down, talk to someone (I’m not saying pray to god but talk to someone). Chances are, people are worried about you. People, surprisingly enough, care about you (yes, even YOU!). 

When you feel down and alone, when nothing is going right and everything is falling to pieces. When you feel hopeless, remember, 
“… There is you know, surprisingly, always hope” 
We just have to find it, grab it, and never let it go… 


Part I: Am I enough 
Comparing ourselves to others never ends well. We end up being hard on ourselves, “why can’t I look more like them?” , “why can’t I act more like that?”, “why can’t I be as good at that as they are?”

It’s a vicious and destructive place to be, putting ourselves next to others and playing “spot the difference” 

The truth is, you COULD be as good as that person. You COULD have that skill that they have, with hard work and determination. Maybe. 

But maybe that’s not what you’re meant to look like or be good at. Maybe that’s not where your talent lies. And that’s fine- frustrating at times, but ultimately fine. 
You are your own person, as cliche as that sounds, it’s true. You are unique and you are beautiful. 

Yes you can change your appearance by wearing make up, maybe working out or whatever, but being happy with who you are is more than just outward appearance. 

The way you act and the way you treat others has a strong impact on who you are. 
Are you enough? 
Enough what? 

Kind enough? 

Smart enough? 

Honest enough? 

Trustworthy enough? 

These are things you can change by your actions- BE kinder, treat people right. Study hard and focus- get help if you need it. Tell the truth and be open about things. 
Are you enough? 

Pretty enough? 

Thin enough? 

Popular enough? 

Rich enough? 
These things are more complicated. But the thing about beauty is that it’s only skin deep. Fashion trends change- in times gone by, it was considered ugly to be skinny and the height of beauty to be “fat”. “Fat” shouldn’t be a label and it shouldn’t be an insult, just as “skinny” shouldn’t be a label OR a compliment. 

Riches, well consider this, would you rather have all the money in the world and no friends? Or all the friends in the world but no money? Chances are if you had lots of money, hundreds of people would want to be your friend for the perks but when the going gets tough, would they be there? But if you had little money but true friends, I’m sure you would never be stuck if you needed to borrow a few pounds! 
My point here is that even if you think you’re not “enough” it’s not true. The worlds view on you is not final and your view on you is not final either. Finding true happiness and contentment is being happy with who you are… And once you do that, you’ll find that you are “enough”. 


Happiness is hard in this world that is filled with feelings of: Confusion 








etc, etc… 
So if you’ve read my recent blogs you’ll know that I’m pretty confused about the future. And very conflicted about where my passions and dreams lie- what I want as a job vs what would be deemed “suitable” for a job. 

But one thing that remains clear for me is that, I want to be happy. Whatever job I choose and whatever job I get- I want to enjoy it and I want to be happy. 

But happiness is found in places other than job / financial security. 

Happiness is found in the simple things in life. But I feel that there are two major drains on “happiness”… 
One: Lack of self esteem 

And by “self esteem” I mean, self belief, self confidence, security and confidence in your looks and actions, being able to love and respect yourself as well as having a positive view of yourself and your abilities (that sounds repetitive). If you can’t love yourself for who you are, what you look like, it has a huge affect on your happiness. You can’t truly be happy in life unless you are happy with yourself. I could say something cliche here like “you’re beautiful just the way you are” (which is true but really hard to take in). Truth is, if you see something wrong in your life, change it. Make it happen. Be the person you want to be- stop complaining about it and get out and get busy! 

“The only person you have to be better than, is the person you were yesterday” 

Believe in yourself. 

You can achieve anything you set your mind to- if you’re determined enough, you will succeed, just don’t give up. This is a daily struggle for many; “I’ve been rejected / put down/ I’ve failed so many times. I should just give up” 

“When the world shouts “give up”, hope whispers “one more try””

“Never never never never never give up. Never give up”- winston Churchill 

Never stop trying.

Back to self esteem… 

You are you. Obvious, but hear me out. There is no one else out there like you. You shouldn’t compare yourself to other people. ESPECIALLY people’s instagrams/ twitter/ Facebook. Because social media is a chance to show off. 

Don’t compare your bad days to someone else’s good days. Don’t compare your downfall to someone else’s stroke of luck. 

Be happy with the little things in life. The chance to see the sunrise, spending time with family, getting lost in a good book or movie… 
Drain on happiness number two: Lack of “peace” 

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”- Isaiah 9.6 
That’s all I’m going to say about that. For now. 

**my advice is not perfect or scientific. It is mere opinion** 

Guilt Trip 

Hold on tight, this is a Christiany one… 
We are free, we are forgiven. So why do we always make ourselves feel bad by going over and over our mistakes? 
It’s something I think everyone is guilty of (is that a pun? Seems ironic at least!). 
It’s important to remember though that we are all imperfect. Everyone makes mistakes and everyone has bad days. We all say stupid things and we all embarrass ourselves somewhere along the line. 
As a Christian, I know that God has forgiven me 
“I, even I am he who blots out your transgressions and remembers them no more” (Isaiah 44.22)

“I have blotted out their sins and will remember them no more” (Isaiah 1.18)

“You are… Washed as white as snow” (Isaiah 43.25)
Are just some biblical quotes that talk of his forgiveness. Which is incredible, not just because it’s endless but because it’s LIMITLESS. It doesn’t matter how far we stray, what we do wrong, if we are truly sorry and truly ask for forgiveness, believing that he will provide it, honestly intending to try better- we will be forgiven for our sins, no matter how big or how small as many times as we mess up. 
You know what else astounds me? 

He still loves us. There’s never a period of him needing to calm down after we confess our sins. 
Like, if a friend hurts us and then says sorry and means it- no matter how good a friend you are, it’s going to take a while to get over that sting. 

Straight away you are accepts back into his open arms. Because he loves you so much When you stray, he’s right there waiting for you to come back. Calling you, waiting with open arms. Arms outstretched to welcome you back. 
I think I got sidetracked. 
Nobody is perfect, we have all done things we regret and ultimately, we will continue to do so, because we are all human and it’s human nature to make mistakes- mistakes are a part of life, a learning curve. They let us grow as people, shape our character, improve us and teach us lessons! 

Don’t be ashamed of your mistakes. Let them shape your future, learn from them. 
Please like, share and comment. Thanks. 

Bright dogs? (Bright sides and Underdogs)

I got some advice from an old teacher, 

“Just keep going, enjoy the journey and have fun” 

This teacher was one of the kindest, most encouraging men I’ve ever met (and a great teacher!). A total legend and I’ve had the privilege, not just to be taught by him, but to work alongside him! 

His sarcastic wit is second to none, but his gentle encouragement has been the one thing that gave me the self confidence to go on to study the subject that I love (which is geography, in case you haven’t read my other posts!)

Sometimes it’s hard to see the good in situations. Life is hard and throws challenges at us every chance it gets. But it’s how we deal with these difficulties that makes us grow as people and develop into who we are. 
A quick side note: Everyone loves an underdog when they win. It’s exciting- it’s a plot twist! 

In many ways I think of myself as an underdog. Despite all talk of “equality” people cannot help but judge. I’m partially sighted, I’m pretty small, I’m a girl and I’m young. BUT have I ever let this stop me doing what I love? NO! 

If anything, the fact that people feel the need to offer help- however sincere the offer may be- has made me fiercely independent. In many ways, I could look at this as a “bright side”. Without being offered help (sometimes “babied”) I wouldn’t have had the determination to show them that I can handle myself. I wouldn’t have had the drive to make myself independent! 

The underdog is often seen as someone or a group of someone’s who have no chance. People who are out of their depth. But you know what I say to that? 

Strive in it 

Let that experience change you 

Let that experience make you stronger, smarter, better. USE it to drive you forwards!

Do not let anyone look down on you because you are young. 

Do not let anyone think less of you because of your looks or gender 

Never let anyone’s judgement of you depict your opinion of you 

Whether you are an “underdog” or not- never let anyone think less of you because of your past, your appearance, anything. Be yourself. Fight your corner. Stay strong. Stand up for what you believe in.   

Even when you get knocked down because people think you’re not good enough, you can look on the bright side because you KNOW what you’re capable of. You can use their criticisms as a drive for what you want to do- PROVE THEM WRONG! 

No matter what happens- and some terrible things CAN, WILL and DO happen in this world, try to find the positives. 

Whether it’s using someone’s criticisms to power through a tough situation just to prove them wrong, whether it’s learning to cope with life without someone, their suffering has ended, they are at peace. It’s hard, I know, but our loved ones would hate to see us wasting our lives pining for them instead of making the most of the life we have been left with. 

Whether you’re suffering from illness or injury, at least there’s a chance, at least you have time, at least you know that your are loved and taken care of. 
SEGWAY- “Brexit”

As you’ve already heard (unless you’ve been living under a rock in the back end of nowhere with no wifi) Britain are leaving Europe. Without going into too much detail, several areas voted to stay and were very disappointed! But trying to find the bright side… Well, I guess we won’t be embarrassed by watching our entries at Eurovision, maybe trade will improve, maybe we’ll get the British empire back? Not sure… BUT I know that what’s done is done and we all need to accept it, pray for those in charge- that they would have wisdom to make the right decisions for EVERYONE and that we would all get through this ok- and just keep going, smiling, loving, making the best of everything we have, because, really, what else can we do?! 
There are so many situations and I can’t cover all of them. And I know that in some cases the situation will seem utterly hopeless. But, try (really TRY) to think of one good thing. ONE good thing EVERY DAY! 

Whether it’s your favourite song played on the radio, getting a question right on a TV quiz show or even seeing a cute dog when you’re out and about! Always look for the small things that make you smile. Always look on the bright side. 

I’m going to try and post some highlights of my days on Twitter (maybe even some pictures of cute dogs I get to meet!). So give me a follow on Twitter @WeeJudiee (I also tweet some pretty amusing stories and jokes so…) 
God bless x