Although it probably seems otherwise to the untrained eye, I didn’t really stop blogging – I just stopped publishing my posts. I don’t exactly know why, by which I mean the hiatus was never intentional. For every single day where there was no post, my thoughts were full of How do you eat an elephant?
In many ways things have been exactly the same. I still spend my time filing my little notebook up with ideas, I still fall asleep turning the ideas over and over in my head, I still march through life trying to find the words that will make it make sense outside my head. In short, I’m still telling the story of myself to myself – day by day, week by week, and sometimes, of course, just hour by hour.
In other ways, things have been entirely different, not least because I’m well. I’m grounded, more interested than obsessed, capable of insight and, perhaps most importantly of all, happy and contented with the place in the world I’ve landed and the person I’ve managed to become. I know what my strengths are, and I recognise the things that hold me back. I’m prepared to say ‘no’, step back and take charge of things for myself. When there is pressure in my life its because I put it there – the agenda is entirely my own. I’m not selfish, but I’m not selfless either and I’m not ashamed to say that it’s taken me 35 years to figure out where that balance lies.
Since last I wrote, there has been life. I got engaged* and finally decided what my ‘career’ is all about. I started a new job, made new friends and made new promises to myself. There have been births and deaths, but no marriages. I’ve read one hell of a lot of books and rediscovered my passion for indie bands that nobody seems to have heard of. I’ve watched all four seasons of Game of Thrones, despite swearing I never would**. I’ve reached a point in my life where money doesn’t really matter and know how lucky that makes me. I’ve completed a crossword almost every day and decided that life is too short for suduko.
Its just life, and it marches on. I don’t dread it anymore.
My difficulties are ‘recurrent’*** and I won’t be well forever. I know that. I also know that my difficulties are not occurring at the moment and, if life is only a series of moments joined together to make a story, I’m going to make the most of the moment I’m in. Like I’ve always said, I love stories – with their beginnings, middles and endings – and the moments of calm you find in them.
I used to think it was all about happily ever after, that it would only be okay when it was okay forever. As for what I think now? I think its okay right now and I’m content with that.
Love you all lots, like jelly tots,
* I know, right?!
** High brow, it is not and misogyny it very definitely is. A right ripping yarn though….
***Grammatically, I think it should be ‘recurring’ but who am I to argue with the white coat people?