Changes, changes… 2018 is turning out to be a bit of a roller coaster ride, but in a good way. This morning I had a surge of contrary thoughts as is my way and, also as is my way, I just wanted to vomit them at the computer screen. It helps me to get it all straight in my head, it always has… However, these thoughts were fairly random but not something I could ‘release into the internet’ under any of my current guises: Until I thought of you dear readers. Is it time, do you think to re consider where this blog fits in my life now? Because, to be honest, that has been the problem in the last few years, I couldn’t see how it was of ‘use’ to me.
In the crazy struggle of writers block that just went on and on, then there were kids that didn’t want to be featured on a blog or Twitter or Facebook, also being pulled left right and centre with health issues, I really did try a few times to use this space, which I’m sure you can see if you look back but it never really gelled. Perhaps it still won’t perhaps again I’ll be looking at this post in a year and thinking ‘Oh man..’
Although I think it might work this time.
I started writing again in February… Words came spewing, venting of emotions, some harsh, some whimsical, they spiralled out of me splashing across the screen in a mad ejection of thoughts. Poems mostly, it’s a start I thought and I was right, I’ve tried hard not to force myself to write letting the whimsy take me where it will, no pressure. Why February? Well, I think I’ll put that credit at my Doctors door for sorting out the total mess that had been happening since 2011 and my bumpy ride with early onset menopause… That and a couple of other personal factors. It feels like an epiphany, an awakening of a sort. Long may it last.
So, here I am with my muddled head of contrary thoughts and a place that might be suitable to vent them? I wonder… I feel, right now, that in so many ways I am in a transition period. I’m not the first, I mean how many books, films and documentaries are there about women needing to ‘find themselves?’ As much as I’d bl**dy love to f*ck off to Greece for a month like Shirley Valentine, it’s not going to happen, I’ve not so much ‘lost myself’ as I just kinda put ‘me’ on a shelf for 12 years and now I’m trying to find out if I still fit. My darling girl is about to end her primary school career and is flexing the fingers of independence, my gorgeous boy has feet the same size as me and is almost as tall, he has to face his first school year without his sister around and secretly he’s hating that thought. The husband is finding his feet driving a desk rather than a van but is very good (bossy as all hell) at managing his people. Which leaves me… No longer required as much for the everyday fire fighting that first almost 12 years of motherhood have demanded.
I’ve been easing back to life. For the last 3 years I’ve been working part-time which often can feel like an escape into the ‘adult’ world. This last school year I’ve attended college once a week to learn silver smithing which has been really wonderful. On top of that we as a family have been enjoying little freedoms… like letting the kids who swim like fishes go into the sea by themselves on holiday. They pop out to the newsagent on errands and at weekends the make their own breakfasts. The little things add up. Since February though, I have felt an ever-increasing build up of what can only be described as pressure inside me. With the husband working from home my head space and me time has gone. Someone else is always in the house, chatting on his never-ending phone calls and just being present. It a claustrophobic feeling which I think I am getting used to but begrudgingly so. The need to escape and be just me without the labels is immense. I love being a Mum, Wife, sister, daughter, friend etc… but this shaking the labels off has always been a major issue for me. (My old reader will be nodding.)
My solution? (Yes, I do have one) I’m off to London on my own to just be. It’s all booked as much as I want it to be, hotel, train… I’m escaping to the city to spend some time with myself. To go to the V&A, maybe the national gallery? Maybe see a show? Maybe sit in Covent Garden and drink very expensive wine and watch the world go by? Maybe stay in bed until 10am and get crumbs on the sheets? I don’t know, I’m not planning anything because if it’s just me, I don’t need to, do I? No ‘Mum! I’m hungry/bored’ ‘Can we have?’ no worrying about Mr.K not wanting to eat curry if I do (he’s easy going to be honest but he’s still my third child and I want a time out of caring).
An epiphany if I ever had one.
Perhaps this is something I can share with you? Here in this space? That would be good.