After my wisdom tooth extraction, the energy and motivation hasn’t been there to move my body. To allow myself the time and grace to be with nature. Outside walking.
Over the last few days I’ve not set myself a challenge, but I’ve been more open to movement. What has helped me stay out there, motivated, has been opening up my senses and witnessing the changes that are happening in nature at this time of year.
We’re moving into late summer, and glimpses of autumn, my favourite season, are just around the corner. I’d like to share what I’ve been feasting my senses on as this has brought me great joy as well as the much needed kick up the arse to walk again.
It hasn’t been about the heat but more so about the light.
When my sixth form tutor advised me when I said I wanted to be a teacher, that I’d be better off serving in a shop, I felt I needed to prove him wrong.
That I could be a teacher and a good one at that. I studied hard, got to Uni, struggled financially and to dropped out to gain employment. But that didn’t work out, so I returned to complete the degree and then went on to train at the Institute of Education in Secondary English and Geography.
I had to prove that tutor wrong but I also had to be a positive role model for kids who looked like me; brown and black students.
So inner city London teaching was where I got my first teaching job. I didn’t realise the school was under space measures as a failing school. Every term we were inspected to make sure we improved and got out of special measures. But I loved it as I felt as if I was making a difference.
With my rose- tinted spectacles still on, I didn’t realise I was propping up a system with its purpose to create factory fodder rather than free-thinking individuals.
Fast-forward to teaching in the north east with curriculum responsibility. Actually teaching in the same school I went to as a kid. Some of the teachers who used to teach me were still there including that sixth form tutor who said I would be better off working in a shop.
I showed him he was wrong.
But I also realised during this period, that I was wrong. I was in the wrong career. Not only was the hours long and tasks never ending. Not only was there a distinct lack of creativity.
But I was bored and frustrated by all the rules, timetables and regulations. Basically at every point or time in the school day, everyone knew where to find me. In the same classroom teaching the same stuff. Life was controlled by the bells and the timetable never changed from each week to the next.
I was bored and when I tried to bring in some fun and excitement by inviting guests and creatives, I was told that this is not the way to teach. It’s just not done that way.
I was dying from the inside out. Little pieces of my soul were being eaten away from the rules, the controls, the regulations. I had to go.
I jumped ship without a net and suddenly I was no longer bored but full of wonder and curiosity and fear of the unknown but so much more energy for life. And willingness to explore.
Not sure why or how but I went with it. It got me outside the house into the sun. A cold day but we had the light.
The light pulled me around the park, as I walked ran walked. Second run of the week. So what if I took an extra day between each run to recover. I got back out and I’m grateful.
My mood has remained up as the day has gone on. And I say I don’t know why but I think I do.
I think because I’m building up the trust I have in myself is the thing. Because I’m consistently showing up for myself with my morning routine. I’m showering myself with care and attention. And I’m feeling the benefit of it, through waking up with a smile of my self.
It’s a circle – I give into my pot in order to receive.
I haven’t done this in a while but I’m feeling it today. The mid-week slump, nevermind hump!
After a restful weekend, I used to rush into my Mondays and do all the things. Get everything in order for the week ahead. Full blazing glory that meant come Tuesday, I’d been down and out. Knackered.
It’s been awhile since this knackered feeling has hit me on a Wednesday. After a couple of days of emotional roller coasting and focusing on traumas and past hurts, moving my body to move the energy, today I’m staying put on the couch, alternating between coffee with hot buttered toast, and YouTube and reading. Eyes drooping and head nodding.
I really don’t give a fuck as this is the point of my hiatus, hibernation for the next 3 months, to rest and retreat and dream. If I’m feeling like doing fuck all then I’m doing fuck all. Nothing.
My worth is not measured in how much I achieve in a day, how many things I can cross off that never ending to-do list. My worth just is. I’m here. I’m enough.
So excuse me while I stretch out a bit deeper into the couch of many cushions and blankets and flick through the line up for an afternoon movie, a black and white one maybe. Old school. LUSH.
The weekend passed in a haze of pain. Being in pain is tiring. I’ve been keeping moving, not wanting to sit for too long and stiffen up.
My visual journaling practice has been helping to shift my energy. It’s been spreading positive vibes at a time when I could be feeling less positive. My mobility is compromised and I’m feeling it.
I’m not feeling sorry for myself but I have been annoyed with myself. I’m trying to offer more compassion and understanding towards myself and looking at this time of injury as I chance to reflect and learn.
What would I do differently? What do I need to listen to / heed to more? I was following no one else’s instruction than my own when I said I as going out Saturday. Through sheer pig-headedness I continued on my way, even thought I saw the path was dangerous. I didn’t want to be seen as having difficulty in walking. I didn’t want others to judge me as incapable or old even.
I didn’t want to give up on my plans, on myself, not wanting to be beaten I carried on even when my gut was saying turn around and go back home.
But I got beaten anyway and in a much worse way. I’m learning and listening now because I don’t have a choice.
I’m learning how everything is so precarious and one false move everything can change. I didn’t think I was taking things, my life and body for granted. But maybe I was/ still am.
Things have to change. I’m lucky that I have the time and space to bring about this change. Slowly does it indeed. I’m got nothing to prove to myself or anyone else. And I must remember this. No one is watching me as everyone else is focusing on their own shit.
It’s me who’s putting on the pressure, the expectations, the rules and regulations. It’s me who has to let go and surrender.
The aim this month was to turn up here everyday and post something; words, images. Anything. Anything that would be used as evidence of my presence. Of my joy and my gratitude.
And now I look and see I’ve missed the last 7 days. And for now I don’t have the energy to go back over this week and pull out the good parts. Or maybe even the bad.
I just know that time is fleeting and speeding. Before we know it, we’ll be in 2024. And I’m not sure I want to waste any more time living in the past.
I’m wanting more and more to live in the present. This is what I’m grateful for; the time and means and ability to live in the present. Live/ love with each day as it comes.
Sometimes, I can feel my energy stagnating. Or being leeched away into activities, projects or circumstances that I want to be in but which if I allow it take me away from what is important to me.
I do great work and I enjoy facilitating/ creating/ coordinating it. Changing lives and bringing joy and opportunities to others, for others.
But sometimes, I have to strengthen my boundaries and batter down the hatches in order to make sure I can show up the best version of myself for myself and others.
The last couple of weeks have found me running low on energy, patience and creativity. I’ve been giving away a lot of myself, time and energy, and focus.
So the next chapter to the end of 2023, is focused on me taking back what’s mine. Taking back my time, my energy, my sparks and directing them in the directions that feed my soul. Which fuels my dreams and confidence in my voice.
And it starts with preparing my next visual journal. I’ve returned to a trusty old faithful. A pink pig sketchbook. And I’ve set up on my kitchen bench with paints and the gift card.
Every time I go into the kitchen, I create a spread. I smear drops of paint across the page with the disused credit card. I can feel my energy, my excitement and joy rising.
This simple act of moving colour across the page fills me with joy, wonder and ideas. My creativity has been lit up again and I’m looking forward to filling these pages.
Living Wild Studios 