There is no reason why this should surprise me. Ever since contracting M.E. Christmas has been a mountain with a descent as fierce as the climb. Throw in a crop of bereavement anniversaries, and the impracticality of cold, damp weather and I should not be surprised that my New Year is rarely as dynamic as I hope.
This post will be short - I am still not up to a great deal of writing, but I am so twisted by my own silence I have grasped the “don’t get it right get it written” attitude. At the end of last year you may remember I realised the degree self censorship suffocates my work - I filter before I even get it onto the page. I’ve had a strange disconnect from my thoughts and feelings over the last few weeks. This may be a kind of self-protection or it may be a more M.E. related thing - perhaps a mix of the two. Whatever the reason it is unsettling. I reached the point of sitting outside for a while yesterday just so I could feel something.
And it seems to have worked. I’m working with prompts from Wendy Pratt’s “What to look for in winter” course and finally, finally I have written something. It’s not going to set the world on fire but my pen and hand, head and heart have reconnected. I am healing, yet again. I am reading, I am writing, I am feeling I am breathing. Deeply.
Oh fab! Have you seen the link to the page where we can share our work? It came out in an email last night.
It's been a slow start for me but I'm hoping I'll get into the groove soon!
I'm taking that course too!