THE SECRET OF HAPPY EVER AFTER

Saturday was a GOOD day. Janet, who goes to the BBQs I attend, gave me two free tickets to Harrogate Flower Show. The weather was perfect. The show full of interest (I must visit the people who grow pitcher plants sometime), John behaved himself and I bought some thoroughly daft things for the garden including two chickens and a fearsome looking metal blackbird.

My wonky hip/back behaved which was a relief but after three hours I’d had enough and went home for a snooze. Energy restored, I went to Marks and bought a meal for two deal rather than having to cook or go out. As September 14^th’s go, it was very good. I don’t know why I mark that day (September 14^th, when Gareth died) rather than other, happier days but as we married on Valentine’s Day and his birthday was in January, September gives me more options, weatherwise at least. 

I’d like to thank everyone who’s left comments, sent messages, advice and so on,  I’ve  even had an anonymous gift. At the moment, I’m dead set against any pills but I’m going to a homeopath later so will have to see what she thinks.

I’m feeling better at the moment, trying to build up to make a decision. As yet, I still haven’t been able to take the big (for me) step that involves.

I’m working on a competition story for a local competition – 800 words on the theme ‘ A Winter’s Tale’. There’s no prize but the winners will be published in the Harrogate Advertiser, plus there’s a grand prize day being held in Harrogate. It could be a good evening, of course, I’d have to come in the top ten to find out.

I’m out from 2.30 today until whenever. It’s Leeds Writers this evening and I’m not sure how long I’ll stay. That rather depends how the mood takes me.  After the homeopath, I’ll have time for a quick browse of a shop or two, grab a snack, then on to the meeting.

I’ve just finished Lucy Dillon’s book, THE SECRET OF HAPPY EVER AFTER and loved it. It made me cry, and laugh and smile and it also made me think about my past and whether I’m carrying a burden of shame too, like one of the characters in the novel.  I’ll have to put that past my therapist tomorrow.  I can’t resist sharing a quote from the book. I hope Lucy doesn’t mind.

‘He held her in his arms and he listened to her shame spilling out after so many years, and he told her, in his soft Scottish voice, that things were going to be all right, that she was brave and clever and beautiful and everything a good woman was, she could almost believe him. ‘

I guess, that’s what I’m looking for only I don’t have a man in my life so I need to be able to say that to l myself. Like I said, it’s hard, but I’m working on it.

Feeling blue and hating myself for it.

I am fed up. With life. With myself. With feeling like an old woman. My joints are giving me so much trouble right now and I have no idea why. I’m hoping it’s because I’m stirring things up by starting therapy again and  trying homeopathy.

The problem is I have lost faith. I’ve tried so many ways to fix myself that I no longer believe anything will work and we all know  what that means – if you think it, that’s what will happen.

I received an anonymous gift yesterday. A book, a pad and some other little bits (sorry, I can't eat the fudge so I will have to give it to John). The book’s about animals so I'm sure to enjoy it. I’d like to say a massive thank you to whoever it was.

 Often it’s the kindness of strangers that keeps me going. I still think of my birthday and all the cards I got from people I’d never met. That meant a lot to me, so whoever this anonymous gift giver is, thank you.

About writing. I’ve been writing stories but they’re not coming out right. They’re flat and full and not very good at all. It’s not writers block – I can write, I just can’t write well enough. It’s all down to my mood. If I rated how I feel on a scale of one to ten where ten is very happy and one is very miserable, to write fiction I need to be at level 6. That’s not high, just above average, but at the moment it might as well be the top of Mount Everest.  Sorry for sounding so miserable but as you know I’d rather be honest about things.  I’m finding it so hard to decide what I want to do. I could fill up my life with voluntary works and trips away, join more groups and go out more. I could get a dog, or two. The problem is that I hate to let anyone down. I wouldn’t want to start voluntary work and decide after a few months that it’s not for me  which also explains why I can’t get a dog.

What I want to do is feel free and happy, free to do the things I want to do (write upbeat stories, paint, have a long relaxing holiday, listen to music, have fun, mix with positive upbeat people, play tennis on the Wii) but for some reason I can’t seem to do any of these. Instead I fill my days with things that aren’t fun. I can’t go into details here for reasons I may explain later, if I ever find the nerve to take action, but suffice to say I’m not enjoying life at the moment. Maybe that’s what making me feel physically ill. I’m trying Gestalt therapy at great expense. What if that doesn’t work either?

If I wasn’t me. If I was my best friend, then I could give myself a proper talking to. Say the right words of encouragement. Offer great advice that made sense and was easy to do. I could also look at my stories and see where and why they aren’t working (I can stil do that for other people as easily as falling off a log) but I’m not my best friend.

My ‘best friend’ would say stop worrying so much about other people, about letting them down, about upsetting them, and start doing what you want for a change.

Maybe one day I’ll wake up and everything will feel different. I still believe that’s possible so there is hope.

Tomorrow I’ve been given tickets to go to Harrogate flower show (thanks, Janet). I’m having trouble walking at the moment but I’m still going, even if it’s only for a couple of hours. I’m hoping I can find somebody to sort out part of my garden, two parts in fact. Tomorrow is September 14^th. Sixteen long years ago, that was the day I lost Gareth, my third husband. I always try to make it a special day so going to a flower show is a good idea. I might even buy a plant in his memory.

Again, sorry for being so down. I AM working on the problem. I will get it sorted, soon.

back into therapy

This morning, I went to see a new therapist. I’m still feeling very low. The worst thing is that when I’m feeling less than six out of ten, my fiction writing suffers.  I lose my mojo and everything comes out flat. I can still write non fiction and downbeat stories but womag stuff I find very difficult.

I know what’s wrong with me. I know what I need to do, but I can’t seem to actually do it. All the things that give me pleasure (singing, playing music, writing fun upbeat stories, painting) I find  hard to do or I don’t do them at all. And as for actually booking a proper holiday, that’s a no no. I had my tarot read at Swanwick and the lady said I needed to spend the time up to Christmas sorting things out. Healing. Learning from life’s lessons. So that’s what I’m going to do. I might squeeze in a weekend in Scarborough as that place is great for my short story writing, other than that, I’ve put all thoughts of going on holiday  on hold.

As well as starting therapy (again), I’m also going to see a homeopath on Monday. I first went to one decades ago (he was an NHS doctor who also did homeopathy) and it was good for me, so it’s try to give it another go.

I’m tired of being on the verge of tears all the time. I’m tired of staying up late and stuffing my face with ice cream and cheese and pickled onions because I’m bored and lonely. Tings need to change and if that’s going to happen, I have to MAKE it happen.

Tomorrow I’m going back to Heydays at the West Yorkshire playhouse. I haven’t been for a year which is crazy as I used to enjoy it. I’ll probably go to creative writing, then lunch, then singing. Tomorrow night is a quiz at Spice. Again, I’ve not been to many events with them recently so it’s time to have another go.

I have put several ,otivaitonal print outs on the wall so that I can see them when I’m working. I’d like to share one. It says this

‘If you do not ago after what you want, you’ll never have it.

If you do not ask, the answer will always be no.

If you do not step forward you will always be in the same place. ‘

It’s time I took some more steps.  Here’s a poem I wrote recently on that subject.

THE BRIDGE

I have no idea what’s on the other side.

I know exactly what’s behind me - 

pain, grief, anger, self-loathing and fear.

My old life lies  rotting, putrid and dull,

its stench clogs my pores, saturates my soul,

Take a step forward.

Just one tiny step,

Away from the darkness.

Just one tiny step.

Even a child could do that.

Just one tiny step.

I’m stuck on a bridge between two halves of my life.

I do NOT want to go back.

I want to cross.

All I have to do is move my feet.

That’s all I have to do.

jack's funeral, Fiction Feast and a 'naughty' proposal

It’s been a strange few days.

Yesterday was Jack’s funeral. It brought back vivid memories of my mother’s funeral. Fortunately it was more like Gareth’s in that it was a celebration of Jack’s life with music he’d chosen. Best of all when we left the chapel, he’d asked for Hey Jude to be playing and that we should all sing as we walked out. That helped to keep away the tears but at the same time, it made me sad that I’d never talked about music with him. Afterwards dozens of people went back to Good Neighbours for good and tea and coffee. When it was over, I bottled out and called my ex as I didn’t want to go home to an empty house.

As a complete contrast to this, I received an email proposition. Somebody I met recently, I won’t say where, offered to be my lover. This was both a shock (his message was rather blunt) and a boost as this is the first time anyone’s shown an interest in my ‘charms’ for years.  I turned him down for reasons I won’t go into, but who knows, maybe the wind’s about to change.

I have a story in Octobers Fiction Feast which is two months in arrow. Shame I haven’t managed to send them many new stories recently. I’ve been much too busy with other things. I really do need to decide what I want to do. I DO know that getting back to more creative stuff is near the top of the list.

This morning I tweeked a story that The People’s Friend might be interested. I also found another one that I’d sent to Fiction Feast years ago so I rewrite that too and will post it off later.

In an hour or so I’m off to Newark for the judging of the MABEL BARBER competitor.  I have to say I’m nervous. I don’t know the venue, or the people and though I have an idea what they expect of me, it's still daunting. I’d wanted to get there early, find somewhere to grab a snack and then make my way, by taxi, to the venue. Instead I’m being picked up from h station and taken back to somebody’s house. I should have said no, but you can’t, not when people think they’re being kind.

I’ve also decided to go to the next NAWG writers retreat at Wentworth in November (see www.nawg.co.uk for details). I hope they have single en suite rooms as I’ve never been there before.

I’ve started taking Bach’s flower remedies to see if they help me feel more positive. A friend has advised me to look into Gestalt therapy too.

I still haven’t managed to book a proper holiday…..

NAWG Festival of Writing

but will still get a chance to attend another couple of workshops run by other people. It’s so hard to know what to take. John’s giving me a lift down, then  continuing to Exeter to see his family so I will be getting the train back. That means I can’t throw everything into the case as I need to be able to lift it.

Today’s been a bit frustrating. I wanted to get on with a couple of stories, but ended up doing other things, like going back to Cartridge world because the cartridge they sold me was broken then having to deal with a Writers Bureau bag (I only have 48 hours to turn them round). Luckily there were only two pieces of work inside but it was still distracting. No crossword class of course.

I find packing hard. I need to be comfortable when I’m teaching which means having to try everything on, to make sure, plus I need a decent frock for Saturday as it’s the big Gala Dinner and we’ve been told to dress up.  

I come home on Monday, have a couple of hours there, then have to go to Leeds Writers, the first meeting of the new session. Then Tuesday I’ll have to spend on Writers Bureau work, Wednesday is Jack’s funeral, then on Thursday I’m going to Newark for the results evening of the competition I’ve been judging. It looks as though those stories are going to have to wait a little while longer.

On the filler front (I don’t do many these days), I have one in Amateur gardening this week under my maiden name of Gaunt. A very easy way to earn a £10 garden token!