Not writing is like a shadow on my shoulder, always projecting itself in front of or behind me; always making me aware of its dark, pressured presence.
Not writing feels like I’m cheating myself of something.
Not writing and pretending that life is OK without writing is being in denial about my true life force, and what sustains me.
Not writing means missing out on Continue reading
I was furious with someone today. On my high horse, I sat down at my laptop and trotted out an email, imperiously setting out why I was right and they were wrong. As the rage flew from the keys, I felt so much better about the entire issue.
I was just about to press ‘send’ in triumph when I paused, took a breath, and pressed save instead. Might I regret it – big time – if I sent it?
It reminded me that Continue reading
A worry shared is meant to be a worry halved, but apparently writing down your worries on paper can help ease anxiety and prevent the memory getting blocked (especially before an exam).
Expressive writing – where people can let their problems spill out onto the page, and is known to have psychological benefits in terms of making it easier to cope with issues – is just one of the techniques used by teachers in Washington County to help students deal with test anxiety.
The study tested students about to take their high-school final exams, asking those with high anxiety to write down their fears for 10 minutes before the test. The students who did the writing outperformed their non-writing peers in the test by Continue reading
I’ve persisted today, even when I felt like giving up.
Sitting with a client suffering from depression two years after a bereavement – who just ‘gets rid of’ her days – makes me appreciate the joy I have in my life. I wanted to escape the chill of her room and the critical sharpness of her gaze. But I stayed.
Just as I have stayed with WordPress (now on my Blackberry) in spite of its technical problems, so I can commit to my postaday.
I feel that if I let it slip just one day, it would give me an excuse to slip others.
And if I abandoned that woman, what other pain would I attempt to escape from?
Can we ever tie up loose ends?
I had my first ending last night.
I’m no good at sewing. But I like my ends sewn up. Which is why I’ve been intrigued by my inability to tie up loose ends, and my simultaneous detestation of them. Yet those ends tend to dangle in my life.
I’ve lost my dad to cancer, my mother to dementia, and my sister to fraud. Hey, I could win hands-down the Derby of Suffering, and the Grand National of Loss.
But I have never properly or consciously managed an ending. Until today. Continue reading
My father died 12 years ago this hour.
The rasping breath, as I left his hospital bed,
Lasted a few minutes more.
There was still hope, I said from denial,
Til I took the call, Continue reading
I found synchronicity in a singing teddy bear yesterday.
Bear with me (if you’ll pardon the pun!) One of my daughter’s teddies fell out of bed yesterday morning and set off his inner melody, singing some unrecognisable but cute ditty. Anyway, this teddy must have fallen awkwardly onto his foot (where the music mechanism is activated) and the singing just wouldn’t stop. He was still singing after breakfast… after we got dressed and brushed our teeth… after I’d come home after dropping her off at school. The singing turned into whining, but Continue reading
A photographer caught my soul today – even without his camera lens.
Listen with your eyes (istockphoto)
I had arrived at a breakfast meeting this morning feeling out of sorts. Much as I’d like to blame London Transport for not putting on enough Tubes, the source of my unease had been an unwelcome and unwieldy, claustrophobically uncomfortable hatred of other people. Hatred may be a strong word, but it’s certainly in context when it comes to considering the insidious anxiety that fills the commuter-me: the angry individual whose boundaries have been invaded by too little space, too little time, and too little patience
What is it about the London Underground that triggers an uber-survival urge to oust any object that gets in its way (human, animal, vegetable or mineral?) There is something about a closing Tube door that symbolizes rejection, frustration, abandonment: being too late; being too uptight; not being good enough. Continue reading
Sometimes, I have to admit that all this personal development stuff feels a bit full-on. Every week, I have yet another insight about my behaviour or my personality and I think: right, that’s it. I’ve got it. I can stop now. That’s enough insight for a lifetime, surely?
Except it isn’t. Once embarked upon – like a long-distance, leisurely cruise – once you’ve lost sight of land and got pretty much half way, there’s little point in turning back. Because you’d need twice as much effort to turn the ship around and go back to where you started as you would just to continue cruising. OK, the grey horizon of never-ending sea may feel, well, endless. Except that I feel I’m travelling to more meaningful places – ones that are three-dimensional, nurturing, supportive, compassionate – and the place I’ve left behind is hard and unforgiving.
So, no matter how slow and difficult the journey, I’ve started it so I will finish it.
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