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Well it’s been quite a time. The month of May has left my mind tired and my heart full. To see my book out in the world continues to be amazing and surreal, and the love from readers and supporters just keeps coming. I’m truly grateful.

First of all the celebrations when THE PROOF COPY arrived

Then the emotional handover of author copies to parents

Then came the launch party – the best night EVER. Pics will be here soon!

One Year is now out in the world and (in case it wasn’t obvious) I still can’t believe it. Thank you Gill Books for being talented and clever and pushing me to make this book shine. Thank you everyone for buying it, reading it, telling others about it and generally being wonderful. More soon but meantime I’m still doing publicity and resting in the knowledge that my book will find its way to anyone who needs it.

Fly little debut memoir, fly…

It’s dark in January, but there’s light ahead, and light within. Revisiting this wonderful poem by John O’Donohue.

Having recently experienced an enforced re-start due to job loss, I couldn’t help but notice that despite initial anxiety and sadness, my capacity increased almost immediately. Following several months of stress at work (and knowing deep down that all was not well with the project funding) I hadn’t realised that I was withdrawing. It was little things at first: saying no to invites from friends and feeling like I was moving in slow motion. Then it was bigger things: feeling flat about something that usually brought me joy, being easily irritated, sighing a lot.

In short, I was not myself.

My return to colour has involved Shakespeare, cats, nature, and time alone to process. New seasons are inevitable. And they are welcome. 

Image by Nini Kvaratskhelia on Pixabay

Well, well, well, if it isn’t February already. People have always said that time speeds up as you get older, but I didn’t really believe them. It’s still a New Year, I reckon, and I’m trying to get used to it since January lasted about four months. It’s dark out there, in more ways than one: winter winds, unwelcome change and big bullies ruling the roost. I don’t like it.

Even my clothing, I’ve noticed, is tight these days. Base layers of thermals and clingy polo necks are the thing. Skinny jeans have had their day, I know, and I don’t miss them (my knobbly knees are also relieved) but there’s something about the cosseting sensation that we surely all need these days. Therapist-speak calls it ‘emotional containment’. 

There will come a time to let it all hang out again, a time to feel free and safe as we move through the world. But for now, I’m wearing those vests and putting extra blankets on the bed and even asking for hugs when I need them.

For now, I’m simply holding on tight.

‘And from the granite of some secret sorrow, a stream of buried tears loosened.’

A poetry reading to end the year. None better than the words of John O’Donohue. Reading from ‘To Bless the Space Between Us’, Convergent Books, 2008.