So here’s a little of the S.P. around here recently:
I’ve been silent on my blog because I’m going through a sustained period of ‘hermitude’ (new word …but you know what I mean, right)? It’s not unusual for me to mentally retreat from the world occasionally but it’s never been for as long as now. So what’s all that about? I’m not depressed, just feeling uncommunicative.
I’ve also been fixated on crochet since Christmas, making project after project and maybe that has drained all creativity in other areas of my life but I’m bothered by how little my photography is inspiring me right now. Photography has sustained me and so often given me joy in recent years that it seems a shame to have it suddenly fall by the wayside like this. I simply don’t have the urge to be out there taking photos and when I look back on the vast majority of what I’ve taken, I’m frankly underwhelmed. I see the lovely images taken by internet friends, their inevitable and constant improvement as they practise their art but me? …I feel I’ve been at a standstill for a long time now and don’t know how to improve things. I also wonder, after all this time and all this practise, why too many of my images are little more than snapshots, only of passing interest to me or my family.
I’m curious: Why the need for such sustained ‘hermitudedness’ and silence? Why the self-doubt? Why the lack of enthusiasm for something that I know in my heart that I still love? Why can’t I just lighten up and enjoy the fact of taking photos, even if they are snapshots, and not constantly compare myself (always unfavourably) to others? Why must so much of my life be turned into a sub-conscious competition in which I am the unwilling participant and inevitable runner-up? Give it a rest girl ….!
Then there is the curious and sad tale of the disappearance of our cat ‘Bo‘. In the past she has gone on a walkabout, only very occasionally, for a period of 3 days. A couple of weeks ago she disappeared and day 3 passed, then day 4…and day 5…and by the evening of day 5 I was beside myself with worry. My daughter came and walked all around the roads where we live, asking the neighbours she bumped into if they’d seen her, but no – nothing. The next day we canvassed the entire area, knocking on doors and leaving ‘Missing Cat’ notices in letterboxes. In the evening we were out at dusk, searching, and I was yelling her name into the wind as loud as I could. Still nothing and by this time the weather was shaping up to take a turn for the worse. The next day my husband was out for almost two hours (in the rain), checking in fields, along the grass verges that line the roads, in the thick undergrowth fringing the cliffs and along cliff paths. After 7 days, there was the unspoken fear that she had been winged by a car and he was looking for a body. What I also hadn’t voiced however was that in my head constantly from day 5 was the possibility that she could have chased a rabbit down a rabbit hole and now be stuck and dying slowly of starvation. I just couldn’t get that hideous image out of my head, couldn’t concentrate on anything else and was regularly crying when alone.
On day 8 she turned up, mid-morning, looking unhurt and really quite well. I think I spooked her by my semi-hysterical greeting and tears of joy. I don’t know where she had been but the only lasting effect seems to be that she’s very nervous, wants to be close to us constantly and sometimes calls to us until she hears our voices.
I’m curious here therefore: Why did my brain so quickly go to the blackest possible place and become so fixated on the worst case scenario? That also begs a constant question I’ve had in my life which is how can I control the faulty faucets that are situated behind both my eyeballs? It was bad enough before but an unfortunate lingering effect of my stroke is that my emotions have been heightened still further (if that was even possible).
Gah...I’m such fun to be around.
Anyone with answers to these questions – please pop them on a postcard and send them to me at: Happy Acres Rest & Care Facility, Hermitville, UK.