It’s payday, I think I’ve shaken off the worst of the lurgy, I finished my PGCert yesterday, I’ve just viewed a flat, I found an old favourite novel in a charity shop and I’ve made some page ears (an alternative to dog-earing a book).
I created a bullet journal for my new job, which I start in five days! I’m excited. I love new beginnings.
So, I finished my PGCert yesterday – I had my final seminar in Brighton. I feel exhausted, happy, bereft, inspired, valued, optimistic, reflective… and all things inbetween.
I am trying to be kind to myself. I am unwell, with flu-like symptoms. I’ve been houseband through most of my annual leave because it’s hard to breathe. I thought it was because I spent six hours removing mould from my bedsit last Monday and I thought that maybe I ingested some spores. Or something along those lines.
Regardless, I just haven’t been able to get past my chesty cough, blocked nose, sore throat… I am finding the illness more frustrating than painful – I’ve spent the past three mornings feeling like I was on the mend, only to feel worse as the day progressed.
I feel like this will be a disappointing blog post, because they only thing of interest I have done is start a bullet journal for my new job (starting next Monday) and go to the local charity shop to buy a passport cover.
I’ve lost enthusiasm for writing. I was asked to write an article last month and I liked the content but not the angle. But I wrote it and thought it was OK. I was asked to rewrite it earlier this month and just haven’t managed. I indirectly addressed the angle and it wasn’t good enough. And I just haven’t been able to write much since.
I’ve asked to change my MA Creative Writing application to MA Education. As much as I’d like to do the former, my practice feels more relevant to the latter.
This week will be a little bit busy because I’m at a content management system training day tomorrow, then I have a occupational health telephone interview. I’ll visit Brighton for my final feedback session, and go to the GP. So I might have some interesting things to write about later this week. Lucky you.
I’ve been unwell, but I popped into Canterbury today to accept a job offer. Here’s a photo of me at a wellbeing event reading a book about confidence.
I have taken some time off blogging to focus on my self-care. It’s exam fortnight where I work in Canterbury, I am also still in the middle of a research internship process, a new course application, writing my personal development plan for my PGCert hand-in, dealing with pain/anxiety and just trying to clear my head after the most chaotic month I can remember in recent history.
I am very excited about the upcoming changes/challenges in my professional life. So excited, in fact, that I threw myself into them without much thought for anything else. Whenever I have bursts of positivity and productivity in my life I embrace them. I have also been spending time with my family and friends.
I stumbled upon the Folkestone Wellbeing Centre last weekend. It has only been open for a month. At the time there was a journalling workshop happening in there and it was pretty exciting to see people using journals for wellbeing. It is definitely a place I would like to return to and possibly get more involved in at some point. While I was there I saw a handful of copies of the Radical Self-Love for sale. I got the book for my Mum and my BFF a few years ago. It feels weird that I saw the book again because lately I have been thinking about Gala Darling‘s sacred mornings. Mornings are something I struggle with and, as I try to live my life more mindfully, they are a constant reminder of how far I have got to go.
A lot of my reflections over the past year have been around the idea of belonging and home. The morning is the time when the sense of displacement hits me. Morning is the time when I feel the need to put on a brave face or a happy face or whatever is expected of me. I’m tired of it.
In my previous seminar I spoke briefly about my artwork. I was not expecting to, but an hour before I had a chat with my tutor and as most of my class were talking about their work and inspiration, I thought I would too. I had it all planned in my head, but when I looked at the pictures they triggered memories and I kinda just spoke about that. I noticed I use negative words and phrases frequently, I don’t feel particularly negative most of the time. But I feel the need to challenge the hiding of negative feelings. Which is where I guess my artwork started. I self-censored for so long that my anger seems offensive to me, and I feel like it’s uncomfortable for others too. Saying I’m angry is hard.
I wondered if I am more upset that my feelings take up space or that I take up space in the world. I feel like an inconvenience.
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