Open Spaces

It’s true that I have neglected this blog lately. It’s not that I haven’t been writing, for there’s been quite a bit of that going on, but the type of writing I have been working on is different and not really what belongs in the content of these pages. It has taken me the whole month of January to put pen to paper here though. 

A very long month.

Many talk of the January blues, the long slump after the festive indulgences that usually accompany the end of the previous year. This year I have definitely found myself struggling to get out of the hole I have found myself in. I began sliding into it weeks prior to the New Year and there have been days when pulling up the duvet to block out the daylight has felt like the best option.

Though I refrained from making resolutions at the start of the year, for fear of failing with them at the first hurdle, I did use that period of reflection time to give myself a metaphorical kick up the butt. Much of my writing last year, particularly in my books, looked to the positive strategies I had employed and moving forward in developing such a mindset. Yet I knew that I was slumping and wallowing again. The old tune of “Mud, mud, glorious mud,” comes to mind but I needed to get out of that mud pool because it didn’t feel glorious at all.

I have read a lot about menopause, how depression and anxiety are frequently inextricably linked to it yet often not recognised as such. In my reading I have also discovered that this change in a woman’s life, this transition stage involves learning to accept the changes to become at peace with the new or reinvented version of the woman you were. I felt it was time to try to embrace this acceptance concept and for me, that has meant asking for help and pushing myself to step out of my comfort zone in a few ways. 

Without giving myself time and space to overthink and procrastinate I did three proactive things at the start of this month. I took three steps to pull myself out of that hole.

It is quite apt to be writing this today - on the 31st January- as the first step was that I signed up to Red January. In doing so I made a commitment to be active every day of January and as well as it being a fundraising venture for the Mind charity, it was a personal agreement to get outside, be in nature, feel the air and the weather - good or bad - as all of that would benefit me and my wellbeing.

The second step was booking a GP appointment to force myself into discussing what has been going on. No longer choosing the route of struggling alone, feeling that I should be able to do it all without support. Instead, though I was close to cancelling the appointment the day before, I allowed myself to tell the GP that everything wasn’t actually fine. The feeling of relief in having done so is good, as is the fact that we are working on a plan to move forward.

The last of my three steps was to sign up to a creative writing course which I began mid-January and which has stimulated some of the different writing that I mentioned at the start of this piece. The night before the course started I questioned my decision, the morning of the course I asked myself why I was struggling to walk through the door and as my husband dropped me off I resisted the urge to take flight and hide in a coffee shop. But I went into the course, met new people, learnt new things and am starting to write in a new way.

I am not out of that hole yet but I have had a few glimpses of the open space above and around me. I have had a few days when that space is at my fingertips and days when it fades away as I slide again. When I start to doubt my abilities in any way, it is all too easy for the sky to start falling in and to feel incapable of completing the simplest tasks. It has taken me several days to find the words to write this piece and I took two weeks to reply and complete a form that was needed for a commitment later in the year but I did manage to do both eventually.

That’s the trick of it all isn’t it? Never mind what the struggle was in getting there, allow yourself to feel good about the fact that you arrived. For now I am taking one step at a time, ticking off items on my ‘to do’ list and writing down one positive thing each week to add to my jar of 2020. Give me a few more months and the promise of a little summer sunshine and I’ll be up and soaring in that sky. I’m sure I will, won’t I?

A Cartwheel or Two?

When is the last time that you cartwheeled to work? As you walk your daily route, do you find yourself breaking into a parody of the iconic dance to ‘Bring me Sunshine,‘ established by Morecombe and Wise? I’m guessing that’s a collective sigh and a resounding ‘no’ all round with possible questions in your mind of where is she going with this today. I should explain.
I have just seen both of these on two different corners, each executed by a girl in their summer school dresses, making their respective ways to school. As I drove past, the unfolding scenes brought a smile to my face and I thought about the carefree nature of them. Both girls were old enough that school will represent a tangible workload so in effect is their workplace and it just got me thinking about our working lives and wondering when we start to lose our exuberance of youth.

I don’t recall ever cartwheeling along the street but I used to do so in the park or my back garden without a second thought. It’s one of those skills that I wouldn’t put on my CV but if asked to demonstrate, I am guessing that I would still believe I could and then be sorely disappointed with the results. I imagine it would be like a silly moment I had in a friend’s garden last year when I acted upon a random impulse to roll down the incline of her lawn to find that I am definitely not as physically supple as I used to be.They say that once you know how to ride a bike, you never forget. That phrase does not take into account the physical and mental changes that can creep in with age - the adjustments to your core balance and your inner confidence. Then again, is it all a matter of perception? I haven’t ridden my bike in years, I feel that if I did I would wobble off - akin to some comic character, but I might just surprise myself.

These two schoolgirls took no account of others perceptions as they cartwheeled and danced down the road. They had no lack of inner confidence in expressing themselves in this way. Perhaps they both had something exciting happening at school today, or they’re both just having a positive day, or they just do that sort of thing all the time. I need to start having more dancing days and random moments when a metaphorical cartwheel would be the go to choice to make. I have had a few weeks recently when I have been sliding and allowing the dark corners of my mind to take hold a little. I have found myself overthinking- sometimes even the simplest aspects of my day. It has coincided with me feeling like I have lost my way a little, as I have made some readjustments to my usual responsibilities within my drama group and also fallen out of the writing habit. Again I find it interesting to reflect upon my need to write regularly. The words did not flow for a while and so I did not try and then I doubted that they would ever flow again. Recognising that I was struggling, my husband encouraged me to talk about it and the last few days our snatched moments of conversation, in between the mundane and the necessary, have been about strategies to move forward. Again, he has been right. He set me a challenge to get up at least once a week and start writing, doing nothing else first.

It is the routine of a writing habit that I need, even if much of what I write ends up amounting to nothing. When you have a purpose and a defined role you can follow your direction and notice the details along your pathway. Writer’s block, hormonal trickery and continuing to juggle some of life’s curve balls combined into a heady mix last week. I thought about stopping my blog and all my writing actually. I questioned my ability to take on the part that I have been allocated in our current drama run and considered stepping off the stage this time. I was unsure how to pick myself up and keep walking. I kept most of that to myself and my inner monologue- the one that usually plays out complicated scenarios in the early hours as I wrestle with the familiar insomnia beast. But if I just stopped everything, where would that leave me? The suggestion of a friend to take a break from writing struck a chord and I asked myself why. What am I writing for and who am I writing for? Well, we all have an ego and mine has undeniably been massaged by a handful of book sales and positive reviews that is obviously true. However, it is clear that the book sales will remain a handful, there is no magical international best seller waiting to emerge from my laptop at any time soon, but I knew all that going into this writing thing.

Many years as an Early Years educator have shown me that it is the process and not the product that counts and I should really be aware of that. After all we all have the same destination, it’s the journey we make through life to get there that is important. I should keep writing because it is an outlet and possibly my self-help therapy. I am writing because I have relaxed about it again and I shall keep on writing because I have found something to say and I know that a few people want to read it. These are the things that I need to keep telling myself when my mood dips, when I question myself about my role and whether anyone would notice or be bothered if I stopped writing or stopped drama. If it would matter to me, then that’s all that should matter. I have to stop looking for external endorsement and just cartwheel when I need to - or at least take a graceful waltz around the garden.

Some Days You Just Have To Eat Crap!

This blog has been a long time in the pipeline, for this phrase came to light months ago when talking to a friend and we joked together that I should write a piece called just that. It is a phrase that we use when we have had a day when we have felt the need to eat too many carbs, or something sugary or fatty – often to fulfill a craving of the body or to lift a mood of the mind. When one of us have felt the often related pangs of guilt afterwards and communicated this to the other, we now have come to that understanding to reassure each other with, “It’s okay, some days you just have to eat crap!”

Since the blog has been going and people have begun to read it regularly and are aware that I am writing it, there are a few times when individuals have said that I should write about a specific subject, perhaps that we have been discussing together. Other times, in mid-conversation something funny might arise and together we’ve even joked- be careful or it will end up in her blog!

I suppose that’s what writers do. They join in the everyday, just as everyone else does, but they catch hold of a part of it and examine it microscopically through their notes on a page. Like a child might grasp a dandelion clock as it floats by on the wind, examining its beauty before blowing the fluffy seeds further on their journey to fulfill the wishes they’ve just made - a writer grasps a seemingly insignificant aspect of the everyday, finds its beauty and let’s that then take flight, with the flow of their pen and the imagination of the reader to join up the dots provided. I’ve always been fascinated by the scenes constructed in my mind when reading a book. Granted, the writer has evoked a setting and a character from the choices they have presented but the joy of realisation is within each reader’s imagination. How many times have you been disappointed by a film or dramatisation of a cherished book because the protagonist does not match up to how you had cast it all in your head?

Okay, so far you’re thinking ‘What has this got to do with eating anything?’ I do like a tangent, and when one presents itself I enjoy seeing where the journey will take me - today it appears to be from crap to dandelions! In writing this I have discovered that the dandelion is a symbol of the ability to rise above life’s challenges. It is linked to wish fulfillment, long lasting happiness and youthful joy. (According to the website www.flowermeaning.com ) Well, we could all do with some of those things in our life, couldn’t we? On the days when such goals feel a pole apart from where we stand, when we need the tenacity of a dandelion to find our crack in the concrete to push onwards and upwards, when we need some crumbs of comfort to rise above the challenges we have been given - that’s when we need to eat crap.

There, I made the link!

I’m guessing that you all know the days that I mean? The best of us, the ones committed to exercise routines and beneficial food swaps, the smoothie swigging, gym attending, spinach eating best of us - all have these days, don’t we? I have done well over the last year to adopt some of the healthy habits that we all know to be good for the body and mind. Since starting this New Year - on my career break - I’ve actively worked to keep some of these aspects in my daily routine. Good food choices, exercise, aspirational thinking - all of those things. But I have to admit that without the structure of the daily working grind- it is a battle to do so at times. Yesterday, I truly did have a day when you just have to eat crap. I had the wrong stuff, then some more of it, far too much of it and then, just before bedtime, a little bit more of it. A crap-fest extraordinaire!

Today, I am parking that to one side. I have retired to my writing best, the sun is shining through the window and I am writing. There are no dandelions in sight right now, but I did see some snowdrops when I walked the dog last week. A blanket of tenacious white bells offering the hope of Spring, warmth and an invitation to run in the woods and leave life’s crap behind.

Does anyone want to join me?

As Yet Untitled

Standing outside of the herd, being separate from the crowd, having the courage to stop drifting along with the general tide, whatever you want to call it - doing something different brings with it danger and uncertainty.

Recent blogs have detailed the journey I have been on these past few months to arrive here, an ex-teacher looking to regain some sanity and self-esteem by being different. No longer following the daily work drudge but instead having no particular rules and having space and time to write, to be creative, to do something new.
Many well-wishers have supported this decision and backed it up with positive messages about being brave enough to follow my dreams, not knowing where I will go or what I can achieve until I take the first step – until I take that leap of faith. Well I’m committed to it now. Whilst my immediate family and close friends see the necessity of the decision and indeed, have spurred me on so that I feel supported and am being encouraged to face what lies ahead as an opportunity to be grabbed, I have entered the New Year wondering how much of a rose-tinted facade I am building for myself. Am I just kidding myself with all this talk of writing and creativity? Have I not just dressed up an inability to cope in the restraints of the job I had, in a romanticised scene where I am acting as the protagonist – a writer whose character has just been given the space she has craved all these years to blossom? Should I be pursuing such a pretence or just knuckle down and find myself a real job, like everyone else does? That’s a lot of questions.

Having just watched a wildlife documentary I was struck at how easy it is for the predators of life to pick off the weakest, those struggling to keep up at the fringes of the pack. I am all too aware that I have my own inner predators waiting in the corners of my mind. Doubt, comfort-eater, self-criticism and many more that could so easily manifest themselves. In order to survive these I know I need to be somewhat proactive. In years gone by, I have easily sunk into a routine of watching junk TV, eating junk food and following a junk sort of lifestyle when I felt low, or preoccupied by negative thoughts. Having done so well with my weight loss and trying so hard to make the most of myself, the ‘fabulous at fifty’ initiative, I really cannot afford to let it all slip as the year unfolds, even though I feel myself moving to the fringes of the societal pack at the moment.

Next week I would have been starting the Spring Term, if I had not resigned, something which has been my life’s pattern for as long as I can remember. I went from being at school myself, to training to teach at university, to teaching my first class - all governed by the academic calendar. Instead, I don’t know exactly what I will be doing. Aware of how I might be feeling, both my husband and a good friend have made arrangements so that I am doing something special on two days of that week and I have had many more friends make it clear that they are around if I need them too. I feel very lucky that I have such people in my life who are looking out for me. Now is the time to look out for myself too.

There are many mindfulness sites extolling the virtues of positive words and deeds. I read one quote exploring how much difference one positive thought can make, how trying to start each day with one can make an impact upon the rest of it. Like the Spike Milligan poem describing the infectious nature of a smile, treating yourself kindly and actively focusing on the positive must have a ripple effect. It is an outcome that you have to actively pursue though, like training an inner voice to remark upon the positive from the everyday.

So I have started my year by writing each day, writing whatever pops into my head. I am sure a lot of it will be of no consequence to anyone, but the mere act of writing it is a process I am finding cathartic and positive, so I guess it does not matter what I am writing. For now, the pages of my writing diary form their own exclusive audience and that is enough.

Change is frightening, but nothing new happens without change. Some things will be worse, some will be better. I may find it hard to come to terms with some things, most probably things that I have not yet even considered. For now, I must not allow myself to worry about what this might include. Face forward and keep going, nobody knows what awaits them around the next turning so in that, I am not alone. This chapter of my life has no predetermined direction, no name to describe it and no designated end point. In a year’s time, I may have some answers or some shape to this chapter, all of that remains to be seen. Until then, the chapter remains untitled and is perhaps as all good writers find, the last part of the writing jigsaw to fall into place. When researching the writing process, it is apparent that a good title is an organic process that emerges from the writing – as the words fall onto the page, not – as in many Literacy lessons in classrooms, - an imposed label on which to write a formulaic response. So here I am, Mollie the blogger with an article: As Yet Untitled.