So. Here I am, one month and five days on, healing. Healing from a painful infection over the past few days, and healing from an empty head since the start of this project. Perhaps my body is trying to tell me something. At least I recognise certain feelings that always crop up when I am ill; I feel guilty because one of my jobs had to cancel the session without me, I feel lazy for not leaving the house or getting on with things. I feel bored because I don’t know what to do with my time off anymore. The day of having fun making lists seem far away.
Well, they’re going to come back. After this weekend at my cousin’s wedding, and all next week working, and the week after doing something else obviously important… No. Tonight. I will plan each day the night before to maximise the use of my time and actually create time for happy-making activities. For example, it takes all of five minutes to catch up with a friend when you stay in touch regularly, maybe an hour and a half when you leave it for ages. So I am taking those steps to re-establish my connections, maintain my relationships and give as much as I feel I should be giving. Today is the first time I really spent time writing love notes again, to distant friends and work friends. Tomorrow will be another.
I can’t help noticing how weird my daily pattern is now – get up about midday, look outside, maybe go back to sleep, ignore breakfast time and go straight to the living room to pretend to write, ignore the sun and real air for about twelve hours and have a very postponed dinner or midnight snack after the Nearly Parents have gone to bed. I don’t think I’m being rude. They have their routine and we have separate tastes and habits. We are different people, who sometimes run in parallel, and sometimes don’t.
Maybe I just like my space to be my own, and when I have my own place I will develop a proper schedule for a healthy body and mind. I have cooped myself up in this little lounge watching old boxsets because, simply, we don’t watch the same TV. When I leave the room I feel I have to excuse myself, so sometimes it feels like too much effort – I should explain that, I have always been a quiet person physically and mentally and frankly, speaking is in some cases, too much hard work. I also feel I have to announce my arrival into a room or make noise on the journey in so as not to startle my nearly-mother, as I so often do. I did always creep up on my mum as a kid, but surely I’m not so practiced that it’s become force of habit? Have I turned myself into a ninja?
So after dinner I sit and continue the day’s non-work and wait for the folks to go to bed, silly neuroses I know, but I just enjoy doing things and not having to narrate. And now, it’s finally time for some Ben & Jerry’s and a cup of tea.