A heavy weekend

307:200:161

I’m starting to write today feeling quite heavy. I’m hopeful that putting some of my thoughts down on these pages is going to help me feel much lighter. The intention here is not to spread the heaviness, it’s to let it go into the air. I don’t want anyone to feel heavier for having read this.

This weekend has been quite tough. I’ve had somebody helping me through what I can only describe as an administrative nightmare, the finishing of things. One of my huge strengths is that I am a starter, an initiator, a creative thinker and a creative problem solver. I can start things easily. I hear from colleagues that some people find that difficult. For me, I have to reign in my thoughts, not that solution, not that problem, not this one today.

I’m also writing today because a colleague asked me about last weekend, what I’d been doing, whether I’d had a good time, the normal kind of chitchat. And honestly, I couldn’t think. It took a number of moments to switch from the focused, intentional place I was in at work, to…oh, what did I do at the weekend? And I had a beautiful weekend. I saw friends, the weather was gorgeous, it felt lovely. It’s prompted me again to maybe record things, so that I don’t whizz past them so easily and quickly. So that I can document the joy and the hurt on the same page.

This weekend has also been tough because I am facing my responsibilities, and with that comes a brain that is just telling me to quit everything because it’s too damn hard. But the fact is I am doing the hard things. I am holding it all. And I am doing an incredibly good job. I have been doing a better job of that since I turned to Christianity and to God, the capacity to hold is strengthening. But I also have those thoughts that just want me to quit. That want me to put down my charity job, the one that brings me so much joy, and more importantly brings stability to my family, so that I can eat, have shelter and pay off my debts.

A friend commented on one of my posts, a poem, quite abstract, and he said, “Wow, you’ve been through a lot.” I’ve been thinking about that this week. About the impact that words can have on a really layered level. On a level of friendship, of confusion. I don’t always understand etiquette and how people are supposed to behave, I just don’t. I have my own thoughts and feelings and often don’t know how to respond. My thoughts went around a lot of different circles, but the one thing that kept coming up was this: I have been through a lot. But that poem, those words, didn’t even scratch the surface.

And I wonder about when I’ll make time to actually write the book. To put all the words down. Then I go into a loop of, it’s probably all a bit too big. And when people talk about going through really hard, really big things, it’s all relative. It’s all big. Living life is a big deal, and I certainly don’t want to waste it. And in the same breath, those feelings of just packing it all in are still there.

Quit the day job so that you can show up better as a mother, because Ethan’s needs are great and complex. Quit your Fleet work so that you can create more space for yourself. Quit your Bee Winter work where you write and prepare yourself for self-employment again. Quit the house, move in with your parents, be scooped up so you don’t have to pay the heavy burden of rent.

All these thoughts feel pretty normal, and I wonder if other people feel the weight of them too. Because really, I’m just trying to look after myself and my family.

And again, this writing hasn’t even scratched the surface of the things I hold. There are two very large projects with deadlines looming, equally as important as the next two high-profile, purposeful projects I get paid to deliver. The pressure of moving house, or getting a larger place to help with the mountain of debt, because as was quite rightly pointed out to me yesterday, I’ve been living beyond my means. And yes, I’ve been doing that for many years, knowingly, but not purposefully. I didn’t mean to spend more than was coming in. I was trying to build a business, and even that business was never meant to line my pockets. It was meant to improve public transport, and based on the research we did, it moved into getting people home safely. So yes, in those three years I was living well beyond my means because of the income I was getting, because I dedicated my whole working life to Fleet. And that is one of the reasons I’m not ready to put it down, and I don’t need to either. People are interested. The word is out. We are gaining traction. And if only I could spend the time on it doing the things I’m good at, rather than doing the accounts that I’ve probably got wrong anyway.

Actually, just writing that down, I do feel a little lighter. Because all these big things I’m dealing with, they’re not unfixable. They’re not impossible. They are very tangible things that can actually happen.

I am so proud of how I have let my faith guide me, hold me, propel me. Even when I don’t think I can do any more, there is a force that is unseen that keeps me stood, that holds me strong.

Yesterday alone I was an accountant, a secretary, an administrator, a friend, a coach, a dog owner, a mother, a carer, a gardener, a cleaner, a cook, and a service holder who finds it hard to stop thinking about the solutions and the jobs that can be done.

I woke at 5.45 this morning with my lovely dog Pepa, and I stayed up this time rather than heading back to bed. I took the time and made it mine.

Please be gentle with me. I never really know if my words will land with anyone. I’m just a person trying to be the best human I can be.