How a Podcast inspired me to dream again.

How a Podcast inspired me to dream again.

Dramatic title, yes, but I don’t think it’s too much of an exaggeration. 8 days ago, somewhere between 1 and 3 in the morning of the 19th of January, I couldn’t sleep. The day before I had written this post and cried, a lot. I had cried about my lack of drive, the fact I felt I had no dreams to follow, having no idea what step to take next and the crippling fear that was making me so sad. By writing the post I gave myself an opportunity to process those feelings and by finally articulating and processing them, I immediately felt a bit brighter. And in those quiet hours I sat at my desk started planning a new idea, one that has turned me from a crying mess with no clue which way to turn, to a woman more driven than I have ever been, with a fire in my belly I have not had before.

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Re-adjusting

Re-adjusting

Holme Fen – Big Skies!

Today, for the first time since the end of March, I looked in my Filofax. Usually the small, treasured item that organises my life and it looked at most days, it has been left untouched for the best part of 3 months. There were some things scribbled out in it, from when Covid-19 first started cancelling all our plans, but I had stopped at the middle of June, unsure at the time how long the virus would last. I don’t think any of us were really sure and June let alone September still felt like a long time away, so cancelling things beyond June seemed silly. I wasn’t naive in thinking they were definitely going to be fine, but I also didn’t know so it was worth leaving them for the time being.

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A Punch in the Face from Dominic Cummings

A Punch in the Face from Dominic Cummings

I write this post as I think about the revelations this weekend of Dominic Cumming’s 260 mile trip north during lockdown, and the more I think about it, the more it fills me with absolute, incandescent rage. I will try, as best I can, to keep this to the point, to not be too rude or completely sucked into this emotionally, but it is my opinion, I don’t believe it’s a completely unreasonable one, and I make no apologies for a) having an opinion b) wanting to voice it or c) using bad language (sorry, Mum).

I also write this post only an hour or so after writing this one, about how a life of 9 weeks of shielding is getting me down. And it’s because of the first post that this one is getting me quite worked up.

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Thanks, but I don’t want to.

Thanks, but I don’t want to.

I am eternally grateful for all the nice comments people have said in these last 62 days. I am by and large feeling more positive thanks to everyone who has told me I am doing well during this, and I have proved to myself I am a lot stronger than I thought, but I don’t want to be told these things anymore. Because I don’t want to have to continue to live in this strange, cold and disconnected way.

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