How is it already July? I mean, I know I keep being amazed by how quickly the time goes by, but look at it! It’s July! It’s been July for a week! I’m just baffled. Baffled, I say.
I’ve been struggling with my writing recently. And by recently I mean for the past year and a half or so. I know I’ve mentioned it here before, but … something just doesn’t feel right.
The other night I was struggling to get to sleep and I found myself thinking about the blog I had when I was 16. I deleted it about 2 years ago. Why? Because so much of what I wrote about back then brought back some painful memories now. Feelings that I can now identify, looking back at them. Knowing what I know now (after a lot of therapy and medication plus sorting through my thoughts, feelings and memories), I couldn’t bear to have such vivid recollections of the struggles I had on top of the ‘usual’ teenage issues. It just hurt. I couldn’t see a lot of it back then. But it was there. Always. Affecting me in ways I … You know, let’s leave it here for now. Maybe one day I’ll be strong enough to dive into it. But today is not that day.
Uh, so, where was I? Oh, yeah, my blog back then. (Forgetting all the subtext I could read from it now) My posts were loopy and completely here, there and everywhere. Like me. But for whatever reason for a while now I think I’ve been trying too hard to make it and myself look more polished and perfect than I actually feel and am.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got my days where I wear a tiara and high heels whilst listening to classical music and drinking tea from my fancy bunny cup. But most of the time I live in my scruffy oversized t-shirts, Slytherin shorts from Primark, sit with my limbs all over the place (just ask my husband, he still marvels at how I can say I’m comfortable with one leg tucked under me whilst the other one is perched on the bookcase/desk/wall/etc), drink water from a lidded cup (because I keep flailing about, I often knock stuff over, so a good lid is a must to minimise the damage) and have a general layer or mess about me.
I’m sure I’ve already come to this conclusion here before, but here I go again. I shall endeavour to be more me. Not just here. But in life, too. I shall (try to) not apologise for being me.
That’s my this year’s resolution. Took me long enough to figure it out, but I reckon that only means it’s a good one. A keeper.