I don't want to write today

Forgo all previous thoughts

Everything is wrong

All around us has changed

Real life has gone

All my friends have gone away

They are all out

having fun

I am

alone

The only

One.

I could make the best of it

Try new things

See what fits

The truth of it is I feel

low

Being here. No place to go.

There was a time I got invited to join in

Nervous me, glad to begin

A journey of inclusion

Accompanied by anxiety

And maybe that’s what put them off me

They didn’t know

That everytime

I was asked

I got braver, sparkled, danced

Then anxiety hit again

Pushed me back into my pen

Like a caged bird, not allowed to sing

Confined to listen to everyone else’s din

My head hurt

My brain exploded

All the happiness eroded

The invites all dried up

Eventually I tried again

Clean page, fresh ink, the dots intact

Suggesting this, pursuing that

Until I heard, “you’re not where it’s at”.

This Wheel's on Fire

In my role as librarian, I was introduced to an interesting picture book about an adult not taking in a child’s world. Fixed to their phone, the adult never looks up to see what the child is wondering at, questioning, experiencing. So the child craved attention that the adult couldn’t give. From the child’s point of view, the adult is absent and uncaring.

As a teacher, I learnt to look ‘beyond the behaviour’. In this case, why is the adult not engaging with the child’s world, interests and imagination? The adult IS there, ie physically present, in the same room, on the same walk etc, and yet to the reader it’s obvious the child must be feeling terribly alone. Why?

As a grown-up, I can feel lonely in a crowded room. Often surrounded by people chatting, laughing, enjoying the social atmosphere, in my head I experience the noise, light, scent, taste, texture separately and all at once and therefore in excess. This is sensory overload. I now avoid situations that overload me, that are too much. Why? because it hurts: physically and mentally. And it takes a long time to recover from.

Like the difference between a corner shop and a hyper-market, I can tolerate parties in small doses, if there’s somewhere quiet to retreat to (a safe space) and if I’m in comfortable company (this applies to work and pleasure).

Having friends, colleagues and family who understand this is vital for maintaining a healthy mind and outlook. For everyday function and functionality.

Crash and Burn

For those who prefer metaphors, imagine this:

You say you are a car driver, that you can drive. You have passed your test in the theory and practice of driving. Does that make you a safe driver? More to the point, what makes you a safe driver?

Imagine the impact of each of these things:

The car takes petrol. You add diesel.

The windscreen is dirty. You never wash it.

The fog lights don’t work. You don’t find out why.

The brake lights don’t work. You don’t notice.

Every road surface feels bumpy. You haven’t checked the tyre pressure.

The heating doesn’t come on. You constantly complain.

You’re given a Haynes manual for your make and model: You give it away.

Does your car get you from A-B safely? No, it does not. It breaks down. You get a flat tyre on the motorway. You crash. Why? Because as a driver you have done the social-situation-party-host-equivalent of shouting at your guests, spiking their drinks with drugs, blinding them with multi-coloured flashing disco lights and making them dance around their handbags because you didn’t provide a cloakroom.

And the moral is? Passing your test is just the beginning.

If you think you are now a car driver, think again. Ask yourself, what do I need to help me be a safe driver? And then, hopefully, you’ll be less likely to breakdown, get a flat tyre, crash. And more likely to enjoy the journey, wherever it takes you.

P.S. Did you spot the connection to writing and 'getting unstuck'?

Chocolate Girl

Ok, so today I got stuck... Yes, yes, I know. I've just made this website and started blogging about how to get 'unstuck' - you'd think I would know what to do?! Trouble is, I'm not very good at listening to myself. I've told you what I know, what I've learnt and how it's helped me on my writing journey so far (and hopefully it will help you), but in doing so I've distracted myself - of course! It was inevitable, wasn't it? Like a vicious circle of fate - you write about it, you think about it and... boom! Thoughts spiral away - and in my case boomerang right back to knock me sharp on the forehead. Now I've got a concussion myriad of pictures to deal with in my 'filing cabinet' brain. It's all neatly labelled in there, thank goodness. I can find most things by association, like a sort of human Google machine. So if you say 'garden centre' for example, I instantly see Margeret Meryll Roses, purple Hebes and a Bishop of LLandaff (he's a Dahlia ye'know). See? Weird, isn't it? But that's how my mind works - jumping about like a flea from one thought, idea, song lyric to the next. It's exhausting. I do get respite from the noise in my head at night so I can sleep - and indeed fall asleep quite quickly. Until the nightmares gallop in with their size 9 hobnail hoof-boots and I'm bolt upright and desperately needing to write stuff down.

At Uni, being up at 3am meant I was barfing Ruth and Sheila after a night out, or raiding the fridge for munchies. In the middle ages (ahem) I got up in the night for the children when they were babies and always managed to crash straight back to sleep again - somehow zombie like and often with no recollection of having got up at all (bit like the Uni nights). So how is it now, in middle age plus one (ahem, ahem) I've developed a built in alarm clock that digs like The Ace of Spades in my ears at the most ungodly hours and leaves me with a non-alcoholic hangover? Bewildered yet? There you go, you see - that's exactly how D-D-DISTRACTION happens. In a big, bold sneeze of capital letters; just - like - that. It's not all bad though - honest! If I manage to catch some of those pesky Ds sometimes I can actually read my own midnight handwriting the next day. If I hold the paper up to the light and squint.

So if your nightmares gallop, trot or canter into your dreams and they bother you, try to harness them and put them to work ploughing a sentence or two. You might even have enough for a story. Which might distract you from whatever it was you were supposed to be doing.

Now, where was I when that ramble began? Ah yes, about to begin...