Wednesday, October 24, 2018
Monday, October 22, 2018
So, we're back here, at least for this morning. I get up and I can't wait to write. I make my coffee to kick start the day and since I rearranged my room yesterday, I end up at my desk and computer instead of at the kitchen table.
It's a return to times bygone. The keyboard is in front of me begging me to touch it, and so I start tapping on the keys, at first a little hesitant but then it starts to flow.
Sunday, October 21, 2018
I'm still finding it hard to find the peace to sit down and write. It's become a foreign process; it's become something weird.
Writing used to be my main way of expressing myself but for some reason, in the past few years, it's become synonymous with work and not with an expressive and creative process.
I have a fair idea how it got that way even if it doesn't really make sense to anyone else but me.
Monday, October 15, 2018
It's been brewing for a while, the will to write, the need to spew my guts in the blog corner of the world. So, here I am, back again, but I'm a changed woman, or at least I think I am.
Gone are the days of my nervous breakdown; that is after all where this thing started. I can barely remember what it felt like back then. The awful and complicated relationship with O, and everything else. I suspect life was harder back then. Everything seems a lot less complicated now, except for writing. Writing seems complicated. Writing seems like I haven't quite figured out who I am yet, like I'm waiting for form an opinion and to grow up.
Sunday, January 14, 2018
My mother has Alzeheimer's. Over the course of six months I have watched from a distance how my mother seems to be disappearing bit by bit.
I'm watching from a distance because I live in Australia and she lives in Sweden. I'm watching from a distance how my father and brother have tried to kind of cover it up. I though, realised that things were rapidly changing when there seemed to be gaps in how she remembered me, when her picture of me had become romanticized and sanitized, as though once the gaps in her memories started appearing she was filling them with more palatable "truths".
I'm watching from a distance and my brother and father wants me to jump on a plane so I can see her before she dies, but I know, I know on the deepest soul and heart level, that she's not present anymore. At all.
Saturday, August 5, 2017
You can't trust me. I set out on a new and shiny path and I don't follow through. I feel a little like that about my whole life at the moment but I do realize that it's mostly related to any creative endeavours I embark on. But, here's a "funny" fact about my radical self-love project:
I well and truly followed through on it, I just stopped documenting it here, and in the new true Spilling Ink fashion I sat down and contemplated why.
And, in the process of contemplating why, I found that there are more things I like about myself nowadays than there are things I don't. This came as quite a surprise to me but it was a good surprise, kind of like getting a Christmas present you had thought of but didn't think to wish for because it seemed a little too much of a stretch.
Oh, my hair still kind of tops the list.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
I managed six days of public self-love before I lost steam, public steam that is. I have a theory about why. Something in me has broken when it comes to the confidence I used to have about my writing and putting my thoughts out here on the interwebs. For the past one and half years I've actually judged what it is I'm doing and I've become a little perfectionistic about it.
Perfectionism leads to procrastination which leads to paralysis. This is a pretty common theme in my life and it has been for the past few years, even when I find something that I really, really want to do.
There's something broken inside of me, something that I'm currently in the process of healing, something that's making my own judgement of myself incredibly fascinating and visible to me. Coming out of a condition of chronic pain unmasked a lifetime of self-criticism that I quite frankly do not like.
I don't think I'm any worse than most people, and probably any of you, or that I'm more critical of myself than most, in fact I know I'm not. I'm just more honest about it with myself nowadays.
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