Uneven ground
On potholes, puddles and pain
Life feels waterlogged right now.
From the relentless rain to the puddle-filled potholes that line the lanes where we live, from big fat tears on soft little cheeks to wet socks and cold feet, water has been rising and seeping in at the seams.
Running out to do the school run, the rain finds its way through my leggings and my poorly fastened coat. Walking up our lane, the earth underfoot is claggy and soft, vast puddles of water hide the potholes beneath. I stumble on the uneven ground, smears of mud streak up my legs and my hair clings against my face.
On a beach walk with my husband last week, the tide was unusually low yet the waves were enormous and wild. There was hardly anyone else around and the sea was empty. The wind whipped at my cheeks, making my eyes stream and my nose run. Three times, I faltered on the soft sand and landed into big puddles of water… Water soaked through my socks and I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous I must have looked.
The gift of an extra day in February was marred by a flare up of pain that led to me laid up on the sofa and maxed out on pain relief with tears that wouldn’t stop. This invisible, often misunderstood illness is testing me to my limits right now as the frustration and fury threaten to tip me over when the pain intensifies. For so long, I’ve ignored the background hum of pain and discomfort, for so long I’ve tried to push through it all but right now my body is faltering and I am finding that I simply have to stop and listen.
To add to the muddy, messy, mix, I also received two rejections for two things I so desperately wanted to happen. Some exceptionally kind writer friends were quick to comfort me and share tales of their own rejection and to reassure me that this is all par for the course. I am so grateful for their wisdom and for the opportunity to share aloud with these women what it means to put your writing out there and receive rejections.
It feels strange to long for something that feels so far out of reach, something that at times feels self-indulgent and very often ridiculous; to cling on to a wish and a hope of making writing a full time career… Strange to long for more time to write when to be honest right now it’s hard to find the words and my day-to-day is so full of other things that are taking up my time and attention. It also feels so easy to give in and throw it all away, to take the rejections personally, clam up and just stop writing.
Yet deep down, I also know that my writing won’t be for everyone and most of it won’t even see the light of day.
Deep down, I know that the path will very often be uneven and while there will be many potholes along the way, I am often the biggest obstacle and the one who obscures the light.
Deep down, I also know that I have to keep carrying the light through these days, that having full hands is a privilege and that the everyday ordinary wonder of this world is a gift that so often gets overlooked.
So, as I sit writing this in the margins of the morning before the rest of the house wakes, I’m holding on to this little precious pocket of writing.
I’m holding on to that wisp of a dream that eight-year-old Lucy had to write and grateful for the space to turn towards rather than away from it.
Writing invitation and prompt
I started this space earlier this year with the intention of sharing a lot more prompts and invitations to write… It’s funny how squiggly my path along this substack road has been and how the best laid plans always find a way of changing, even at the very beginning of a journey. But if you would like a little moment to write, I would invite you to use the prompt ‘I turn towards…’
Lastly, a little retreat update
A softly spoken wish of mine is to one day build a dedicated retreat centre here in Cornwall for women to spend some time away from their day-to-day to tend to their words and where they can be held and cared for. I dream of a space where I can run classes, hold residentials and work with others, where the opportunity to write is accessible and affordable, where the tea is hot, the walls are lined with books and there is an opportunity for those who otherwise can’t access it can to have a room of their own. While I work how how to do this in the long term (a lottery win maybe?), I am so excited to start sowing the seeds to make this happen. I’ve had my first few solo retreat testers recently and I’m so very excited to welcome some more to our home over the coming weeks.
I’ve also been absolutely amazing and delighted by the response to the retreat that I will be running with
this summer. Since announcing it a couple of weeks ago, I’m absolutely delighted to say that all rooms have now been booked. There is now a waiting list which you can join here and I’m hoping to plan some more dates soon, so watch this space.Thank you so much for reading.
I've been feeling very similar to you recently Lucy. In pain and tired, writing around the margins of life's responsibilities and trying to look after myself. I too was a child who dreamt of being a writer, spending hours making up poems about horses on my typewriter. Now, aged 42 that dream is a real as ever and here we are, figuring out how to live creatively in the messiness of life. Keep going. We can do this x