It feels as if I haven’t written in forever. Certainly I have not posted anything new to this blog in quite some time. The stats page tells me I’ve written three posts this year. Last year that would have been unthinkable.
I’ve been away. I’ve travelled. You can read about it on my other blog here. It’s not actually complete. I ended up neglecting it as well. But I shall finish it.
Thing is, life has been busy, or rather, it has kept me preoccupied. I could have taken time out to look after my blogs and my personal writing, but I opted out of doing so. I didn’t always feel like writing something or when I did have something I would, in the past, have written about, I postponed it to the mythical lands of “later”.
I’m been in limbo for over eight months. First travelling, then returning home and spending time with the family, then visiting my brother, then freeloading at a friend’s place whilst I tried to find a room somewhere, a new home, back in the UK.
I feel I’ve been indulged quite heavily. I’m not good at asking. Another post waiting to be written. I’m also not good at taking. It might be the introvert in me and that fiercely independent being that doesn’t want to rely on the kindness of others, but tries her best to gracefully accept it.
After all this travelling I just wanted to arrive somewhere and I felt that I wouldn’t be able to write properly for myself until I had somehow settled. Feeling guilty about taking up space in other people’s lives, I didn’t want to seem ungrateful by simply whiling away the time. So I worked as much as I could and put a lot of energy in finding a new place for myself, starting a new life once more.
So this is me writing the next chapter of my life. I have a place now, if it is the right one remains to be seen. I certainly hope so, but settling into a new place is not easy and for me especially it feels like work. A big part of me just wants to be left alone. I certainly have the right room for that, if it were ensuite I’d only leave to cook in the kitchen and buy supplies.
It is an attic room that is at the top of a steep and narrow staircase. Nobody else up here, just me. The view is nice, some green trees and the tops of old buildings. If I lean forward as far as I can, I’m able to see Rochester Cathedral to the left. It’s about 200 metres away.
I have a friend who calls what I want to do more than anything right now “cocooning”. I want to sit at my desk all day and write, mostly as a freelancer, but also for myself. I have plans, I have dreams. I have to, almost literally, write them into existence.
There is so much going on in my head that I’m likely going to follow up with more new blogs. I am sorting through the things that preoccupy me best by writing about them. It’s always been that way.
And write I shall.