Writing is a peculiar thing. There are people who create books and plays and rambling prose and poetry. Sometimes they win awards for what they say out loud. And other times they get told that what they decided to share with the world is utter shite.
Imagine that. Imagine being told that what you feel is not worthy.
This weekend I’m working on a mahoosive blog post.
It’s the biggest and most honest thing I’ve ever given away. It won’t be comfortable reading and it certainly won’t win any awards. My writing has never been about that – I’d have made a career of it otherwise. But if it means I can really let go of what I’ve been feeling then it’s good enough for me.
Hey you lovely lot, it’s Sunday evening. You don’t need me to tell you how quickly they come around, particularly at the moment.
I’ve spent the past couple of hours writing a really lovely long blog post and for some inexplicable reason I’ve just somehow managed to delete the entire lot. That, I think, sums up the past couple of days perfectly.
I’ve not been feeling very well this week. One of those circuitous things. I had a pain in my chest. And I felt sad. And the more my chest hurt, the sadder I felt. And the sadder I felt, the more my chest hurt.
Anyway, I’ve taken long baths, had big sleeps and cuddled my cat.
I went to see beautiful trees with a friend whose patience knows no bounds.
I sat on the sofa in my pyjamas and fluffy socks, eating good food and watching boxsettedy bilge.
I’ve tried not to compare myself to anyone else or to my other self.
That bit was the hardest.
I miss my old, travelling life.
I miss everything I had that defined me.
I miss this.
And this too.
I hate that I’ve become someone who has no plans and nothing exciting to tell my friends and acquaintances. I hate that I’m having to make adventure and excitement out of nothing for the sake of having a tale to tell because that is what people expect of me and I expect of myself.
I don’t like not having anything to say.
But as the weeks and months roll by I have fewer and fewer exciting things to share and I can’t help but feel that because of that I am becoming less and less of a person. I don’t have a partner, family, fantastic career or any of the things that people talk about.
I’ve only ever had my travel.
So the self-care weekend was really such a waste of time. There’s plenty I need more of in life – but sleep, good food and the sofa stuck to my back aren’t any of them.
I suppose at least the past couple of days have helped me to realise that.
Take care lovely people – and keep smiling. No need for you to have a so long face like mine!
Since my last post, for which I make no apologies as my writing at the moment, selfishly, is more about sorting out what’s going on in my head than actually telling you anything useful or particularly entertaining, I’m pleased to report that I’ve had a much more positive few days, despite everything that’s going on in the big, bad world.
I took this week off work. I had bravely arranged a solo tripette. The booking stood only for a few days after which I had to cancel it due to Tier 3 restrictions being announced in my area. These restrictions were subsequently put on hold pending the new national lockdown (Lockdown 2.0 is what everyone is calling it. F*ck knows why. Come on, it’s not computer software, is it?!) which meant that I could have gone on my mini-journey after all, though a train and a hotel were looking like terrifying, rather than exciting, prospects.
Anyhow, whichever way, it wasn’t to be. I’ve rearranged my hotel for another time and I’m told that I might be able to change my train ticket too. That gives me hope. And something to look forward to.
Another plus point is that the cancelled trip gave me more time during my week off to get my home – and crazy lady head – sorted. The more work I did at Longlands, and the more items I ticked off my never-ending verrrrry Long list, the better I felt.