Do you have difficulty letting go? What do you do when decisions life throws you are impossible choices? I love our life up in Pettycur Bay, Fife but when I’m back down in Bedfordshire my life, as it was, enfolds me and I’m not sure who I am.
It’s 11pm and I’ve already failed to get to sleep despite being so tired. I’m in Bedfordshire for a few weeks. I drove down from Scotland a week ago and since then my mum has had a successful operation. I need to keep an eye on her mind, to make sure she doesn’t do too much and I try to drop in on them unexpectedly. Being able to walk to their house in ten minutes helps. The only night I’ve slept well since my return to Bedfordshire was the evening I knew that mum had come through her op and would be home in a couple of days. The relief dissolved all my tension.
On the surface I’ve had a pleasant day. I’ve continued to go through amendments and revisions on my murder mystery manuscript, many thanks to two very dear people who are well read and can spot a punctuation error in the Telegraph. Their input has been invaluable and I agree with the majority of their points although I must admit that it’s quite difficult to say when I don’t.
I saw some of my family today too but tonight, Saturday, as I sat in our home on my own, I was filled with sadness; a loneliness enveloped me as I was aware that I was letting go of the world I had around me and its people. I felt overwhelmed by a sense of loss of friends, family, colleagues, neighbours; the ties of which were either hanging on a spiders silken web or had been severed altogether. I sat in the front room, TV off, thinking about the life I had here.
Always a person who tries to fight back against any sense of gloom, and one who usually enjoys her own company, I decided that it was a perfect moment to read the first chapter about meditation and listen to a new CD. I phoned my mum and my husband to avoid unnecessary interruptions, lit two candles (I wish they had been scented) and, after reading, I lay flat on my back listening to the CD by candle light.
My mind drifted and then emptied of all my sadness and fear and I began to relax. The CD turned then to a meditation exercise, one I knew from Yoga classes years ago where each part of your body is relaxed, bit by bit until all I was aware of was my breathing.
I felt flooded with peace; that calmness I experience most of the time in Scotland. I even felt joyful.
With hindsight I should have gone straight to bed even though it was only 8.30 pm. Instead I blew out the candles and watched TV. So why, why, why, when I finally came to bed at 10pm is my mind flying in all directions and with sheer frustration I am up again, sitting here writing, eating rice pudding and drinking tea?
(posted six months later)