I am writing this post after eating far too much cake. If I don’t get to the end, then tell my ferrets I love them, my cats that they’re okay, and my husband that “don’t skimp on cake, I love your body as it is!” should be saved for someone with much more self-restraint.
I just ate more frosting. What is wrong with me?
I’m not really on a diet, although I do want to get some fitness in my life. I actually got back on the road a little yesterday and did some basic stuff just to remind myself how good I feel afterwards. I’m tempted by one of those Just Dance type games but, well, saying I have two left feet is generous. I have three left feet, two to try and dance and one to keep tripping me over. Although I do a damn good attempt at Gangnam Style.
I’m getting to the point with writing that throughout the day I think of things to write and then when it comes to writing I feel confused. I end up not sure if I already wrote about something or if I just thought about it and wanted to write about it. For example, damnit… I reached for more frosting and forgot what I was going to write.
Ahem. For example, no, it’s gone. I’ll write about the other thing before I lose that OH, got it. For example, I’m now at the point where in this writing to build a habit deal I’m making with Shakespeare I actually do want to write every day. I made myself take a day off on Sunday after I edited the post of fun things for people to do during self-isolation. I didn’t write all of that post on that day, but it took a fair bit to gather everything together. I know it’s not a huge task, but despite how much better I am doing, my brain is not at it’s best working stages just yet.
So, on Sunday I told myself to take a day off from writing. And it was weird. At first I felt guilt, and then I wanted to write. I really did. But, I felt as though it would be the wrong thing to do, that I was heading towards a burnout on these rambles and if I wanted to continue then stepping away from the keyboard was going to be, at times, as important as sitting in front of it. It turns out that I was right, and the next day I was eager to sit down and write. That was a really good feeling. Although I still feel dread over writing fiction – I find trying to focus and shape a story very hard – it meant that writing at least something was possible again. A long shot from when I started on this path back in February.
I find myself thinking more throughout the day of things I want to write about. I change my mind sometimes. Last night I started writing again after I read about people in the USA stocking up on guns and ammo, but today I just can’t be dealing with that nonsense. I don’t want to write about something that pisses me off so much. It’s an almost complete post already, but I feel as though I led off in odd directions without much restraint.
I suppose one of the important things to me in all of this is that I’m beginning to feel like I write again. When I first started writing it was entirely for me. I just enjoyed sitting down and writing stories, and in time, especially over the last couple of years, all of that joy became fear. It became anxiety and like a spotlight was on me and everyone was waiting for me to fuck up. In the end, of course, there was no one, it was just me and a massive amount of fear. I’m writing a post exactly about this but it’s on the back burner at the moment because that stuff is hard to swallow. Or spit out, I suppose in this case.
I do feel like I am starting to take better care of myself, or control, I guess is the right way to put it. I’m learning to recognize the signs that I’m not going to have a good day and I’m attempting to use techniques that have worked in the past. I knew that today would not go well for me if I didn’t do something. I was already picking at myself, feeling my cheeks begin to burn and my thoughts were becoming dizzying. I had to do something, so I painted. I painted the hallway and I didn’t stop until I had something in front of me that made me feel like I had accomplished something. I still don’t feel brilliant, I feel on the brink of something awful, but the wind could have pushed me one of two ways today and I gave it a nudge to push me back onto the clifftop and not over it. I feel pretty good about that. I also feel good about the hallway and a little restless because I want to continue with more things that need doing now.
We’re seriously far behind on decorating the house, with good reason, but I just want to get it done. I want our first home together to be a home and not just a place where we live. Of course it already feels like that because we’re here together, although I desperately miss my ferret and other critters back in England, but I want it to be us I see when I move around the rooms and not the previous owner. I hope that doesn’t sound disrespectful.
I’ll eventually get round to post my little photo journals that I’m way, way behind on writing. I want to have posts from our time together in Hawai’i and England and now here. Anywhere from the first time we met all the way to getting married and being terrified of dangerous spiders. We were so scared when we first moved somewhere with black widows and brown recluses haha! Don’t get me wrong, I’d run a mile if I saw one, but I’m a little less worried about opening the windows now. Although, there are some spiders that I see in the frames (they manage to sneak through the screen somehow) and I’m not sure what they are. Small and black with white lines down their backs. They jump too, and look like they’re always ready for a fight.
It’s about time I wrap this up. I think I wrote it while in a sugar rush because my head feels all fuzzy and to be quite honest, reader friend, I haven’t the slightest idea what I’ve been writing about. Nothing too new there, although I usually have a little bit of a clue!
I hope you’re well and as well as staying safe that you’re staying calm and happy.
For some reason I felt like the best way to end this was “may the force be with you” but the other part of my brain, quite rightly, disagrees.
May the frosting be with you… and far, far away from me.