… I just checked my published posts, and it’s been a year since I’ve posted anything.
Time flies!
A lot has happened that I’ve not shared, but I’ve been writing, as always and scribbling down my ideas for business, for my life, for my home and of course, my soul.
The energy to create is always around me. From the child who wrote and coloured in the pages of her poems, to the frantic adulter who races through life from one task on the to-do list to next. However, the flurry of ideas leads to decision fatigue, and inevitably procrastination sets in.
I know this is true for many of my friends and family whose primary jobs are in the creative industry or the arts. The weight of these ideas and bringing them to fruition feels so heavy. Where do I start? Which resonates most deeply with me? Will people think it’s dumb? This cycle of wanting to do, getting ideas for actions, making lists and never completing them led me to therapy.
“To what extent are you a third wheel in your life?”
My Therapist
I was so sick of being stuck. I wanted to push through, but I felt so lonely. Everything feels overwhelming, when you don’t want to sit in feelings of pity, or worrying if you’re good enough. You want rainbows and sunshine, but you feel sad about life and how little you’ve achieved, so I switched on my screen and answered the question “What brings you to Therapy?”.
Within a few sessions of listening, he asked me a question I was taken aback by. “To what extent are you a third wheel in your life”. I instantly thought ‘I beg your pardon, me – a third wheel!’. I shuddered at the thought, and then I paused.
This comment was said in Spring and it has stayed with me ever since. The truth of his evaluation resounded in my head and the reverberations led to me to reflect on myself, my dreams, and my place in the world. If I’m honest I think it woke me up. Parts of me that felt too painful, too numb, too harsh to welcome, I now accept wholeheartedly.
It’s only through this acceptance that I was able to see the unhealed parts of me. I thought I was healed, I thought I had burned all the mouldy leftovers from relationships and unlived dreams. Haha! Aren’t we human beings funny. Honestly, I don’t believe we are ever fully healed, and I’d like to speak to whoever started that rumour.
What I’ve learnt is that healing is a process, and each day I try to understand myself better. I show myself grace and offer compassion to those around me. Minus the annoying people in the queue in Lidl, and my parent’s clutter. Sorry, I’m not perfect and I don’t care to be. I’m making mistakes, getting stuff wrong, and even hurting people’s feelings – not on purpose, of course. But ‘Ah so it go sometimes’, it is life. I’m growing and I’m doing the stuff that feeds my soul.
Trying and failing to take a picture of a butterfly. Posting the reel that I think is too long. Buying the top I really want, that’s 20 quid over budget. Scribbling my latest idea for bra design down at 3AM. Why, you may ask, are these things meaningful? I have no idea, I’m no guru. However, I will say since doing the little ideas that once seemed insignificant, since starting therapy and having a few tough love convos, I’m much lighter. I’m travelling, I’m writing, I’m a London Passista and I have a sewing plan. It pains me with cringe to say this, but …
Watch this space!
Hammôck 