Day 18 A Soft Saturday

There are lots of uncertainties in my life at present.  The house move may or may not come off, DN2 has another job interview and have told myself I can’t get a new car until I know what is happening.  The house move will mean a serious amount of downsizing, so I have to face the prospect of sorting all my things out, and leaving behind all I have designed to help rebuild my life after the break-up of my 22 year marriage and loss of my marital home.   If you have read the blog from the start you will know it’s been a painful business but I have created a space that brings me comfort, a space that reflects me, from the little piles of papers that still need to be sorted, to a herb and spice cupboard in alphabetical order (heaven help you if you mess it up)  In short I’m a bit of a mixture, I don’t like to use the work ‘enigma’ because I don’t think I am, but I believe there is something surprising about my inconsistencies.  Then there is the recovery from the Last Man, which has passed the first desperate early stages and is moving into sad acceptance that Happy Ever After was, of course, only for others and fairy tales.

I am aware that others say what you think you are you will become, which is a lovely way to frighten the depressed and anxious.  However, this 28 day challenge, which has become really tricky recently, has been a good way to try and focus on the good, the light, and stay away from the shade.  I remember hearing a ‘Pause for Thought’ from the extraordinary Rev Ruth Scott on the Shibboleth at the Tate Modern, when she said what was interesting was how we are drawn to the dark, the cracks in the installation and how that can be seen as a representation of a need to be absorbed in brokenness and blind to the really solid people and experiences around us.  I went to see the Shibboleth, and I found it very powerful and quite disturbing.  A tiny crack opened out across the Turbine Hall to a massive chasm, and Ruth was right, I was drawn to the crack, as much as I tried to look at the smooth undamaged floor.  I have a copy of her piece on my fridge (she very kindly sent it to me, with a poem, when I told her how moving and useful I found her talk).  I re-read it every so often, that piece of paper now curled and old is arrayed on the side of the fridge with the other readings and poems I draw comfort from.

So today my comfort is today being ‘soft’.  Nothing much has been done, it’s been a wet and miserable June day.  I’ve seen my friend and beauty therapist for a chat and my basic treatments, collected my prescription, pottered at home, organised the laundry and thought about how I’m going to sort my life into ‘throw’, ‘store’ and ‘keep’ piles yet again.  I’ve drunk tea and listened to my ipod.  Nothing much has been done, but that’s the point; this is a Soft Saturday.  When I am next called to be big, strong and brave, I shall have the resources, because I enjoy the benefits of being soft.