It’s been proper mad since Thursday. I’m running on five hours sleep, with a high stress presentation under my belt, and literally only now sat and realized ‘oh yeah, you haven’t blogged anything for three days…’ except of course I have, but that was work, not personal. Anyway, the project above is why I’m not really here right now. That needs to change tomorrow coz I just booked a new Open Mic spot for Thursday. It’s all go here, chums.
A few weeks back, someone forced-unfollowed me on social media who was involved in a local arts project I really wanted to be a part of. This morning, unsurprisingly, I discovered they’d not picked my work. I make no secret of how badly people can be treated in rejection. This one was the final straw. I am not going to be beholden to such folly again. My path is mine to dictate from now on and though there may be struggle, I’m not fucking working with those people ever again.
It takes time to form habits. There is merit in failing, multiple times, in order to finally find the means by which success can be held and nurtured. This is absolutely the way now, under my own steam and on my own terms and woe betide anyone who now tries to stop the march of progress, because not only is it coming, it has already arrived. You will rue the day you decided not to include me.
I have a remarkably long memory.
Walking to the Gym yesterday, I realise how much better life is now than it has been for some years. Undoubtedly, therapy is the difference between Now and Then, means by which the problems in my world are rationalised. There is also acceptance that how my life runs is so, so much better overall. This year, for instance, I’ve performed poetry live, three times. I’m not filling Wembley Stadium, sure, but that’s a quantum leap forward from last year, giving me something concrete to aim for in 2020.
Success is worth celebrating more than I currently do.
It’ll be a month tomorrow since I got sick. I’m still coughing, but it’s not life threatening, and if I can say the same come my birthday then we’ll worry. I have a raft of blood tests this week plus a mammogram, then on Wednesday my husband has his scheduled surgery. It’s probably a good sign that there’s already stuff being scheduled as I’ll assume there won’t be time to write until he’s home.
This week is also when I finally get around to doing the shit I’ve put off for weeks: get the car serviced, sort the dentists, attack finances with a pickaxe. Also I’ll start doing twice weekly killer exercise again, whilst doing more in terms of actual relaxation. The next proper break I’ll get will be Half Term. I intend to make the absolute most of every moment I get in the interim, hopefully by the use of judicious planning.
The key fact that was missing between last month and now was having something to relax with. Now that’s been fixed? Let’s get to it.
Also, need to make some new headers.
I wasn’t sick per se yesterday: my throat’s been scratchy and uncomfortable since Friday, if truth be told. It was the two night’s worth of terrible sleep because of that which did me in on Sunday: instead of working, I relaxed. I dozed. A lot of sport was watched along with playing basic tablet games. By teatime, balance and comfort had returned; rest of the evening spent happily pottering on nothing important. Significantly, there was no exercise.
Today has dawned with a renewed sense of optimism.
This is cycling for last week, done. Not as much as I’d hoped for but setting the benchmark for what ought to happen next: bit more effort, slightly less grumbling. After Easter, one of the 45 minute classes per week adds a 55 minute variant. I have to decide this week whether I take the challenge or not. It has to happen at least once, so there’s an idea of the difficulty curve.
It’s really lovely to have a lot of exercise options on the table.
This month has been absolutely transformative. Good and bad, both have shifted so much of the bad away. The more good that can be built as a result, the better things become.
Thank you for sticking with me as I evolve.