A different kind of working

I love that all spaces are now my office, and that there seems to be a whole world of people with their laptops and mobiles, drinking coffee and working in nice places. Today the an arts centre cafe, tomorrow a local cafe 'co working' with other freelance/job seeking friends, tomorrow who knows. Home maybe. I wonder what these folk are up to. What brings them here, to this place, alone, what's going on in their heads?

Re reading the past continued

Today I found the letters to me from the one man I could have, should have, spent my life with. A kind, generous, funny bear of a man who adored me and I him. Nine years have passed since we parted. I left him. I was too young, or so I thought, at twenty five to settle down. My career was just getting going, I had finally found my feet in the world, was trying to make friends and a new life. Somehow there didn't seem to be enough space for moving in, making a home together, settling down, when I felt my adventure had just begun. I haven't thought of him for a long time and I am surprised by the sadness I now find in me reading his letters, cards, so on. We were in love, and I let that precious gift go. Am I looking back with rose tinted glasses? Perhaps. But it is nice to dream of happy times and old adventures.

Re reading the past

Thinking about the past is an odd thing. I’ve spent the afternoon clearing out a suitcase full of stuff that I moved here with two years ago and have never opened. Lots of letters. I re read many of them. Some lovely, some fun, some frustrating and some upsetting.

I read all the letters my grandpa sent me whilst I was a boarding school for sixth form. I don’t think I’ve read then since. It was lovely to think of him and his struggles with typewriter ribbons and the like! He the wrote the last one days before he died. He was a wonderful man and I still miss him. It has made me wonder if he’d be proud of the person I have become. I hope so. He would be hugely proud of my professional life, and he’d probably adore that I continue to play his fiddle, even though I have a better one, it is his and I love it. Music was his gift to me. He would be disappointed in some of my bad behaviour. He would be sad hat I don’t have a family of my own, but he would be sad for me, rather than being sad that I hadn’t produced great grand kids if that makes sense. He would be sad that my faith has disappeared. He was so pleased when I was confirmed, and wrote to me of the importance of it. He would be glad that I am home and helping my parents while they need it. He was a great friend and a bit of a confidant, something I have lacked with my parents. He would tell me I am like my mother.

Brief & Random

Bit of an odd one, a small moment of no particular signifcance but important to me in an odd way....I was aware of what I was doing as I did something I never do;

Yesterday I was crossing the the road when I saw a penny lying on the road. I am not a superstitious person, but I like the whole lucky penny thing. It appeals to me in its simplicity, I guess.

Anyway, I always do one of two things when I see a penny lying on the ground;

1. Pick up and give it to somebody else

or

2. Leave it there and think 'someone else needs that more than me'.

Yesterday, I picked it up, put it my pocket and kept it. Maybe it is my turn for some luck? Maybe I am changing? It seems I am learning to be selfish after all.

Waiting....

Ok, the elation of having a new world at my feet has somewhat subsided in face of having to sort out the details of it all. Procedures, confidentiality and secrets restrain me. I can't share with those whose company in which I spend my days. I want to end my discomfort and thiers but until the detail has been determined, I am bound.

I want to share my anticipation of the future and the sadness of losing those who have helped me craft and shape my skills, experience, and passions. I feel like I am betraying those memories by hiding behind procedures. There is no alternative. I want to let the words out, and thank them for all that they have given me of their knowledge and friendship and support. I must try to patient and dignified.

A whole new life!

Well, lists temporarily suspended as I've spent the past week ironing out the details of an unexpected redundancy situation. I know it was always a possibility, but didn't anticipate it in reality. The job and organisation I've loved for four years and I are parting company. I t thought I would be sad, worried, panicked...in fact I'm elated! I can't quite explain it. I have the excitement of a whole new world at my feet, enough to keep me going for the next six months while I explore all the options available.

After a difficult year, suddenly I am free. I am being graceful, integrity intact, walking away with head held high and and no idea what's coming next....I am excited!

No list this week past as i've been on holiday (well, off work at least). I have been visiting one of my very best friends who lives in the middle east, and has been in Scotland for a few days. So good to see her, and another old friend. Lots of fun but also good and meaningful conversation. There's something about reminding yourself of the good times, that reassures for the future.

This week I'm feeling just a bit unfocossued and generally like i'm treading water. Pinning down the stuff for me, for good this week is looking quite difficult. One thing everyday seems like an awfully big ask right now! Got to try anyway;

Monday - clear desk at home
Tuesday - fiddle
Wednesday - yoga
Thursday - working day & eve, so suspect it's not an option to be nice to myself today although even a nice coffee for the journey would count I guess
Friday - drinks with friends
Saturday - tbc
Sunday - tbc

Putting it off

Why do people procrastinate? Laziness, fear, uncertainty? I can understand that putting off the big things is easy to do. Huge tasks can seem insurmountable unless broken into small steps, but what excuse for the small stuff? What holds me back? Why don't I just pick up the phone, pay the bill, load the diswasher? I want to, but yet my ability to avoid often small and mundane things amazes me. Why do it? Why not just get up and get on with.....Is blogging simply another distraction from reality?

Hmmmm.....

I'm new to this world of the blog. I've read a few others regularly, dipped into many and skimmed hundreds. I love that there's no editor other than ourselves but find myself frequently disappointed in over sentimentality of quite a numer. I am scared of my blog becoming that, lacking humour or insight and being over indulgent. I will continue to read others out there and learn what I can from the most human of them. With a whole weird and wonderful world of the internet out there where does girl begin?

I'm also very curious to know what the average blogger's like....male, female, anonymous or open, motivations for being here and so on.

Another week

Being kind to myself is not easy, not something I've ever learned to do. I was taught to put others before myself and it has damaged my ability to see what I need. I must accept that I am no use to anyone else unless I am ok. My reserves have run dry, years giving and of trying to be the good sister, friend and colleague have left little of me.

I now have to honour myself, learn to love me and be kind to me. Selfish? Yes. Necessary? Yes. Difficult? Yes.

This week's list looks something like this;

Tuesday - fiddle class
Wednesday - see dad in hospital on my own
Thursday - Yoga
Friday - Old friend and his new partner coming to stay
Saturday - Lake district
Sunday - more of the same
Monday - catch up with me, my home ad maybe my finances