Clear waters, shame and shit ribbons

Good morning loves,


A bit like when I used to sew a lot, I don’t have any idea what I will write or what the final piece will be/look like, but I feel like I need to get some words down to de-sludge this brain of mine. And sending it out into the world rather than tucking it into a book feels so cathartic, so here goes. 

The last couple of days which should have been calm and easy as I booked them off work, have been mentally rough. That same old ‘devil making work for idle hands’ business. I can feel things crumbling (internally)  and I just don’t know how to take action to make it better. Or if I need to finally let them crumble. As I write this, I realise that the answer to that is, let them crumble! But ouch it hurts.

All the signs are signing, but I am so stuck in survival mode, I can’t get out of the fast lane and my body is really getting pissed off and punishing me with never ending headaches and back pain. 

Yesterday anxiety and overwhelm whipped my butt so hard I felt like I was recovering from an all nighter by the time I finally slipped into my bath at 6.30pm. 

I grew up in Ireland on a very old kind of run down farm, with no running water (and no windows for a long time), my dad was a broke impractical dreamer, good at bold first moves, bad at the follow through. And I, always a water lover, used to love to play in the goose pond. It looked like a small clear lake when still, but the bottom was pure goose shit. So, ever the fashionista,  I would make ‘rural thigh-high boots’ from bin liners and gaffa tape and wade in. Within seconds the clear, still water would be whirling ribbons of… well, shit! And that's kinda what I have been doing to myself recently, (but with a pen and paper instead of the thigh-highs), by digging into some corners I have left un-stirred for too long, by writing down a lot of things that I feel ashamed of. Secrets I have tucked so deep into my body they no longer had language, so teasing them out was akin to trying to get a stray cat in the street to come to you and be stroked. Except the reward at the end wasn’t soft fur and purring, quite the opposite! 


I am sure I needed to do this, I am sure my back is hurting from the weight of so much shame, so many secrets, so much sadness, but now all the shit is whirling around, I’m not quite sure what to do with it. Or how long it will take to settle. And it feels icky and tiring and lonely. But I am tired of carrying it all and I am so ready to forgive myself and let it go. In a world of quick fixes it feels daunting to embark on something that needs time and care and patience. As someone who can’t wait for the toast to pop in the toaster without checking it, this will be a challenge but it is time and I am ready to imagine what life might feel like without this weight on my shoulders. 


It’s too easy to not have time, to be ruled by a never ending to do list but I am determined to live differently. So today, I will close my laptop and listen to my body and let myself feel all the ick and start to make peace with the ribbons of shit. Because they are me and I am them and as much as life is the sun bouncing off the clear waters, it is also the sludge and the decomposing fecal matter and that's really nothing to be ashamed of.

Over and out

Teary weary hopeful me x


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