Hello lovely readers,
I was planning on writing something really profound this week, something about the seasons, about change and new beginnings, attempting to articulate a wonderful metaphor for the changing seasons in my own life.
But, alas, reader, the words did not come.
I tried, I really did.
Perhaps I’m not ready to write about such a topic yet. Perhaps my thoughts aren’t as profound as I would like them to be. Maybe I’m in sensory overload from travelling; over-stimulated and over-whelmed. Maybe I’m not feeling myself. Whatever it may be, nothing else I tried to write made any sense either. My brain said no and my fingers seemingly nodded in agreement.
I believe that what we write is meant to be, and that we write things at certain times for a certain reason. And this week just wasn't meant to be.
I could have carried on. I could have tugged away at the threads, knitting together at least something that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to share with you. And, you know what, the old me would have done exactly that. The old me who was scared of looking like a failure, of looking like a fraud, as I admit that I find it hard sometimes to show up consistently each week, like I set out to do.
The new me, however, the new me that is trying to be free from such thoughts, isn’t prepared to spend any more time this week hunched over the laptop, pulling out my hair in a wordless despair. Instead I’m putting it away, wrapping it up and letting it go.
Is this defeatist?
I don’t think so.
It’s honest.
Some thoughts don’t want to be shared.
Some words don’t want to be written.
Things always pass, and I’m sure that next week will bring new thoughts, new words, new opportunities.
What’s funny, and I suppose fascinating, is that these words are flowing freely, one after the other, seamlessly hitting the page, my brain and fingers working in tandem. Is this a step in my journey? Is this part of the path I have to take to relieve myself of that inner self-damaging narrative, as I share a part of myself that feels so vulnerable?
I’m scared to share it, as a small part of me remains tethered to those negative thoughts. But, as my mum wisely said when I spoke to her this week: “you don’t want to force a false piece with no feeling.” She’s right, I really don't.
I used to think you always had to show your best self. Polished to perfection, not a flaw in sight. There is certainly no chink in my armour!
But oh what pressure! What a high standard to hold yourself to, each and every day.
The truth is, I have many chinks, many chips, many parts which have been broken and put back together again. There are times of course when you need to show your best self, but day to day, during those little moments, I’m sure people would rather see something real, something authentically you.
I know I do.
So this is me telling you, that I appreciate you all in a way that words can not explain, and whilst this moment right now isn’t my best self, it’s me.
Perfectly imperfect me.
Much love and I’ll see you right back here next week 💜
If you haven’t already, I would love for you to check out my travel journals where I share the adventures of my husband and I travelling Europe in our 4x4! Here are some of my favourite moments so far …
Ah I loved reading this Lindsay and I think it’s so so important to share these bits of our process too - it doesn’t need to mean anything more than it just wasn’t the right time but it’s the perfect time for this. This is all so beautifully articulated. ✨🙏
This is lovely, it's so nice to see these parts of people sometimes too! x