Progress

When my mother died, the focus of my life disappeared and I was left, dangling.  I had no idea where to go, or who I was. And even less of an idea about what I wanted to do with my life.

Ever since then, I’ve been struggling to work out some of the answers to these simple, but amazingly complicated, questions.  It’s been just over a year and in many ways I have made absolutely no progress. I still don’t have answers to any of those questions. What I DO have are more questions, like how do I make life more enjoyable? How do I stop feeling overwhelmed by all the things that are beyond my control – builders and the weather spring to mind.  And of course the biggest question of all, how do I learn to like myself?

I do, however, feel that I am making progress. I am starting to believe that actually I’m OK, and that even though I’m not  attractive according to society’s exacting standards, I do have my own brand of beauty and best of all, it’s the kidn that never leaves because it comes from inside.

Reading that back, I find it hard to believe that those words are mine. I certainly would never have dreamed of writing them two years ago. I guess it goes to show that I am making some progress after all.

Today’s plan – catch up with Writers Bureau and Leeds Writer Circle work, then get out into the garden. Last night I counted five fish in the pond. They’re still just murky shapes, the water’s so green, but I’m already growing rather fond of them. I’ll probably get some plants (I can’t see any at all at the moment) and put them in the pond. At least then the tadpoles I bought with me from my old house will have somewhere to hide.

I have work to do in the front garden too. Hard work, involving digging. I might just have to ask my ex for his help

Yesterday, I went to see the flat I’m buying to rent out. I’d only seen it once for five minutes as the family hadn’t been told we were coming to view it. 

It’s the most amazing flat I have seen, ever. So it needs decorating, but the space and the light are truly awesome. If it wasn’t on the first floor and therefore to far removed from the garden, I’d live there myself. It’s a beauty!