Forwards and backwards

So phase erm… 2? of the move to Redditch is well underway.  The one item of furniture I own has been transported over to the new place already, making room in my Stratford ‘cupboard’ for me to empty out the bed storage.  Where the majority of my beloved books (and a few other items) have been stowed away/neglected since I moved last time.

books

This was a task I was not looking forward to, but it was not as taxing as I had anticipated.  It even had the unexpected side-effect of prompting me to think about all the subjects I used to read, research and indulge in.  In essence, part of who I used to be.  Those things that fire our imaginations and fan the flames of our individual passions, that can sometimes be put away, intentionally or not.  In my case, I had little choice but to store away these precious resources, due to the incredibly close quarters that I have called home for the past almost 2 years, longer even, as my room in Leamington was not much more spacious.  I do find it curious though how easily these things which I held so dear, were so easily forgotten.  Almost shameful in fact.  But when handling these books and other items from my former life, I was reminded of how it felt to immerse myself in these interests.  I was reminded of who I am.  Much like my starting to write blogs again, it is energizing and restorative to feel passionate and engaged in such edifying activities.  I actually feel more hopeful and content, on an individual/personal level, than I have for a considerable amount of time.  It’s refreshing and intoxicating.

Right now I’m resisting the cynical urge to say something like ‘now watch something fuck it up’, as tempting fate is a concept I’m achingly familiar with.  That dread when you begin to feel positive and happy, almost not allowing yourself to feel too happy for fear of something dreadful happening.  Or is that just me?  I doubt it.  That being said, life is not quite ideal.  Of course, like you I’m sure dear reader, there is sadness and external stresses that can cause anxiety and threaten our perceived resilience.  Those emo mos that are to our minds silly and uncharacteristic in comparison to the image we may have of ourselves.  But hey, we’re only human after all.  That being said, I always take solace in knowing that nothing lasts forever.  Things change.  I feel a very definite shift is only a few days away and I’m looking forward to starting the next chapter, where I will be ‘taking back’ those things that I used to find pleasure in.  For instance, over a week ago I put myself on the waiting list for an allotment nearby to my new address.  As readers of my other blog will be aware, I used to have a few allotments years ago, but circumstances changing radically, meant that I had to give up that particular occupation.  I need this back in my life, along with my books.

The move will also give me the opportunity to get cooking and baking again, in a kitchen that I can call my own… oh the wonder of that!  I can’t wait to enjoy time in the kitchen again, almost as much as the boyfriend can’t wait to be on the receiving end of said culinary adventures, or so he says.  Which reminds me, I need to clear out the cupboard in the kitchen of my current house share, wrap up the crockery I treated myself to last year and hope it makes it to its new home intact.  Not to mention the cleaning and hoovering I need to do in my ‘cupboard’ so the next tenant (the lovely Agnes, who is moving from her room above mine) has a nice, clean empty space.  Also, for myself, a little purging of my lost years here in Stratford.  I refer to them as such because, whilst I found new interests and friends here, I also lost/forgot the things that were stored away about myself.  In doing so, I have made my time here harder than it perhaps could have been.  Focusing on other people and activities, at great personal cost, in more than one way.  Which kinda made me feel a little more lost than I might have done, had I made time and head-space for myself.

I have often said that I don’t believe in ‘finding yourself’, the concept of being lost (and having to search for yourself) is an uncomfortable one for me, as I have always thought that I have a strong sense of who I am at my core.  I would prefer to think that I have been attempting to ‘create myself’, which is a more constructive concept I think.  In retrospect, I forgot about some of the things that I enjoyed, projects started but not finished, and things that I have some knowledge and skill with.  Reminders of which may have been a welcome mode of self-support along the way (although some things were and remain a little too difficult to give attention to, at the moment).  Not that I haven’t had good, true friends there supporting me along the way, I have some of the best friends anyone could ask for.  I am speaking about myself here though, surely the main purpose of a blog is to do so.  I have not been a good friend to myself.  I’ve kept myself isolated from many things which may have been helpful, lost focus, and hidden from one pain by replacing it with others.  Hindsight is a bitch, but also illuminating.  I hope to retain the lessons I have learned and plan to work harder to steer my life in the direction I want it to go in.  Let’s face it, life isn’t a rehearsal and I’ve wasted too much time already.  The path is illuminated in many ways, especially now that I am drawing a line under so much that has gone before, but taking the important things forward with me.

 

 

 

 

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