I started last week with a trip to Edinburgh to do my first out of the house project in months. I have to be honest being out in the world was incredibly stressful. Until that point I had only really been out in parks, quiet streets etc. Bustling stations & city centres were a whole other deal. My train anxiety was through the roof. Thankfully, my hotel had taken every possible precaution. I was able to close my room door & breathe easy. I take my hat off to all you amazing folk who have been out there throughout this entire crisis.
On my last day in Edinburgh I managed to catch up with my very favourite man. I found a bar with great socially distanced corner table & we had an al fresco tipple. The months of separation led us to lose track of time and gab for 8hrs. All that delightful conversation meant I got back to a deserted Glasgow. These days silent streets are my jam.
After a few days recovery I got back to my usual pursuits. Last Friday brought my first solo adventure with the boy. We fed some birds & discovered some new street art. Then it was time to find Mummy & hit the swing park.
This week I returned to beavering away at home. I’m finding the transition to the next phase of lockdown tricky. I just cannot feel confident about what is safe & that leads me to continue to limit my activities. Outdoors is much more comfortable for me, especially in places controlling numbers. Thus, I was excited to take the kiddies to a farm park with strict pre booked admission. My sis & I teamed up with my bestie to get these two rascals together. We ended up missing most of the animals because they were having so much fun in pirate ships, digger parks, schutes & sandpits. The weather was perfect. It was such a good day that we had some tears at home time.
Friday seems to have become my social hub. I’m still mostly pottering away at home. Shops & indoor pursuits still don’t feel safe, but I am down for a wee afternoon in the park.
Since the little ones no longer need to social distance my bestie & niece joined us for an adventure. We went to one of my favourite places & had a ball. It drizzled a little, but with highland cows, dinosaurs & fairies to find the rain did not dampen our spirits.
I paired up some striped staples with my new kimono and felt cute. The rain might not have spoilt our fun, but it did ruin my hair. Oh well, no one’s locks look tip top during a pandemic.
Despite now being predictably sore all over, I regret nothing. These little rascals are irresistible & their Mummies aren’t bad either.
How are you? We’re deep into lockdown now, are you managing to feel sane? It’s hit and miss this end.
I’m realising that although I spend a lot of time at home alone, I really do love the things I do get up to. Recent weeks have been lacking on outside interest. Throw in a nasty flare (& injury) and I’ve really been dredging the spoonie resources to fill the days.
The obvious place to find gentle entertainment is my beloved library. I have been re reading some old favourites. Thus providing myself with diversion & comfort. If you haven’t ventured into the world of Barbara Trapido, you’re missing out. She creates seemingly sedate middle class stories. On closer inspection her interwoven plots & sprinkling of the otherworldly are magical. One of my tattoos is partly inspired by a Trapido book. I never tire of her words.
Podcasts have been another lifesaver. Excellent insomnia salve. Equally good played loud to ease me through the dreaded housework. My latest discoveries couldn’t be more different, but I am loving both. True Crime Brewery is pretty much what the name suggests. A married couple who like beer & true crime take us through a different case every week. They pick a beer from the location of the crime & give a wee review too. Dick is a paediatrician & Gill a nurse, their medical input really adds to the analysis. They both possess soothing voices that make listening to even gruesome events relaxing.
Chachi Chats is a must listen. Danni from The Chachi Power Project welcomes a new guest each episode to discuss all things Bopo. The first two episodes have blown me away. Packed full of information that everyone should know. Full disclosure, yours truly will be popping up in this podcast soon, but I am learning so much from the other guests. I can not recommend this one enough.
I did get out of this house, but only for hospital nonsense. I had a transfusion & a chest X-Ray, which revealed two cracked ribs. The good news is I look exceptionally cute in my mask from Rosana Exposito.
I’ve taken full advantage of our move to phase 1. I had some lovely garden visitors. It does me good to see these faces in person. Long may the good weather continue.
In between times it’s video calls galore and taking advantage of my garden. It is a real luxury to be able to relax outside. Especially when the sun helps a little with my joint pain. Not to mention all the gorgeous wild flowers that bloom in my borders. I only wish I knew how to reach Bronan’s level of chill.
I left the house yesterday. It was the first I’d been out in months. Since the First Minister gave the nod to relax lockdown I was allowed to spend time with people in real life. It was a glorious day for sitting in the park. It felt delicious to have the sun on my skin & sublime to see this boy.
We found a lovely spot that offered shade for me & sun for my sister. There we had a natter whilst the boy ran around. He picked some buttercups, blew some wishes and made his auntie so happy.
For my temporary return to the world I had a brand new outfit. I bought this Boohoo co-ord a while ago, but hadn’t bothered trying it on as I had no where to go. It’s in the sale now, if you like it snap it up fast. I sized up because their tops are always small (especially cropped). The 24 skirt is on the big side, but a smaller top would never have accommodated my boobs.
I think this might become a fav if we have another hot summer. I am useless in the heat. This light floaty number will be great for long sunny days. Perhaps by the end of the season I may be able to see more of my people.
Been having a different emotion every 5 minutes. All this isolation is taking its toll. I always find a well selected tune can help me ride whatever feeling washes over me. Thus my recent listening has been a seesaw.
Patsy Cline has been featuring in my playlists fairly frequently. She’s the perfect accompaniment to a melancholy mood. Her voice manages to be sad & comforting at the same time. Strange is a particular favourite at the moment. The wistful cynicism feels familiar.
On a more sanguine note is I’ll Be Your Mirror. I’m not a huge fan of The Velvet Underground, but this is one that gets my insides swishy. I think we all have times when it is difficult to see the good in ourselves. Having someone believe in you enough to reflect them for you is beautiful. The vocals are so gentle; listening feels like sinking into a dream.
Meghan Tonjes is a Bopo Queen. I love her work, so I don’t know why it took me so long to discover her music. Turns out she is a talented songwriter too. Habits is one of those heart wrenchingly honest break up songs that still manages not to be depressing. I’ve definitely had loves I struggled to get out of my head. There’s nothing worse than that everything reminds of you the loss stage. Maintaining an avoidance high sounds appealing (& entirely I’ll advised).
I’m late to the party with Catfish & The Bottlemen. Which isn’t unusual for me. I often discover music long after it has ceased be novel to everyone else. I’ve fallen for them all the same. It’s probably a little cheesy to select Glasgow as my favourite, but it extracts happy sighs me. The slight rasp in the singers voice chills me right out. The lyrics take me back to being young & drunk on sauchiehall st. Days when I never knew where a night out might end. Ah, the glory of misspent youth.
Sexual by Neiked is a surprise fav. I just can’t resist its ebullience. It is impossible not to bop around to this tune. It feels like a summer fling. All the sexy fun & carry on with none of the long term issues. After months in lockdown I am more than ready for this summer to get heady. I hope to soon be turning this one up loud & enjoying it with someone yummy.
I hate to be obvious, but I’ve played If The World Was Ending to death. How could I not? There has been a touch of apocalypse hanging in the air. So many sad stories surround us all. I can’t help but think about who really matters. Of course, part of that will always be the one that got away. It’s impossible not to be swept up in the plaintive request at the centre of the song. If the world really was ending none of the details that couldn’t be worked out would matter. I can’t be the only one tempted to curl up in the arms of Mr I wish he were right.
Too much time in my head is distinctly bad for me. Not getting stuck amongst all the crap i’ve crammed up there is an ongoing project. It is not an endeavour that is aided by inaction.
Staying home alone all day, everyday is not ideal. I require distraction. I need people who make me feel swell and to do things that help me feel worthy. I like knowing that I could jump in a taxi and go anywhere. Having a sense of control is massively important.
Being entirely reliant on others for almost everything makes my insides jitter. I feel more of a burden than ever. Which activates my guilt & anxiety. I’m obviously also worried about myself or someone I love getting ill. Plus the horror of all the people who are suffering & dying every day. I’m basically a big ball of negative emotions.
I’m struggling with pain. I miss my little ones. I miss all my people. I can hardly sleep. There’s very little work. There’s too much time to think. All this on my own time thinking about what I miss inevitably highlights the major omission.
When left to its own devices my is brain predictable. It clings to trauma. If not occupied with the business of living, I regress. Slip back into dreams of the births I’ll never labour through. Flashbacks of the blood & pain I did. Haunted by the over used phrase that always signaled it was over.
There are so many what ifs. Too many of my own actions to question. Huge & tiny alterations that could have changed the outcome. Things I never said. Words others can never unsay. Blame to place. Regret to carry. Penance to complete.
I feel trapped with all I’ve lost and every little thing I can’t share. The good memories are as painful as the bad. The selfies I took when my belly began to change shape. That magical second line on the test. Marking midwife appointments on my calendar. Blood tests with the right numbers. Making lists. Checking what ridiculous object the app tells me my baby is now the size of. Plans & scans & the bam bam of heartbeats.
My body remembers it all in such intricate detail. I recall the fractionally altered taste of mint tea. Sex felt different and the smell of everything intensified. I was heavy with fear. Dulled by fatigue. Yet still floating on hope and entirely delighted to experience whatever this new life threw at me.
It never goes away. I can never take my foot off the pedal. I’m always close to skidding off the road. Lockdown is like a battle not to drift to sleep at the wheel. Spending too long contemplating my past or the what might have been is dangerous. Finding ways to keep my eyes open is getting harder.
It probably won’t come as a surprise to learn that I haven’t been developing new skills in lockdown. My novel remains unfinished & my sour dough never got started. I’ve mostly been entertaining myself with much less useful activities.
Internet nonsense has been a fairly good diversion. I’ve killed some time with insta challenges and silly filters. I alarmed my mother with candy floss hair (I’m almost 40 & she still doesn’t want me to touch my ginger locks). I’m a little bit tempted.
The cosmetics procedure filter was less enticing. This is not a good look. Neither was the art work I produced when. I joined in on one of those Instagram tags. It was rather pleasing to do, though.
The pillow challenge was a bit more successful & even more fun.
I’ve done a fair bit of online shopping. Mostly treats for little ones, but the odd random item for myself too. I seem to be more easily influenced during lockdown. I baked more biscuits than I could eat. Got this gorgeous digital portrait oh my niece & I to add to my wall art.
I’ve made a million video calls. Tonnes of Hi jinks with the the kids. Cocktails & gabbing with adults. I’ve done foot peels & face masks. Organised sock drawers, finally arranged my photos into albums & listened to podcasts galore. I even had socially distanced picnic lunch in the driveway.
Basically I’m trying to defeat cabin fever & stay sane. The fact my darling sister talked me into learning a tik tok dance questions if I’ve managed it.
Earlier this year I started a little shopping in anticipation of the sun coming out. Well, the weather has changed, but I’m not going anywhere. Since I’m dying to show off my lovely summery footwear I decided to give you lot a look.
I used to wear converse a lot in my youth. Tiny skirts, tights & converse loomed large in my teens. Swimwear & all stars were the daywear outfit of choice on girl’s holidays. Perhaps nearing forty has me seeking out old favourites. In any case the minute I saw these yellow flatforms I knew they had to be mine. I only got to wear them once before lockdown kicked in. I can’t wait to get these back on my feet.
The next additions to my summer wardrobe were inspired by my toddler nephew. His stylish Mummy got him some rainbow sandals & I really loved them. Unfortunately his exact ones are only available in baby sizes. I did find this very similar pair in the girls section. Luckily my teenie weenie feet in kid’s size shoes. So, I snapped them up. Behold my rainbow pretties.
There’s nothing like a nation wide quarantine to really hammer home the fact that you’re childless. All anyone can talks about is their kids. How the silver lining of all this chaos is extra time with their cherubs. How being stuck in the house with them is driving folk crazy or all the creative ideas for activities to keep them occupied. It’s a non stop child frenzy. Unless you’re barren.
I hate that word. It feels accusatory & cold. It is, however the descriptor that keeps pushing itself into my head. Being alone in my house for over a month has contracted my world. There’s nowhere to hide. I’m content in my own company, but I’m accustomed to regular interruptions. Being unable to see friends, family or get involved in any outside work projects is tough. Those are my escapes. Adventures with little people. Laughs with big ones. Putting my skills towards something worthwhile. When you take all that away the only bit that’s left is empty.
There’s too much opportunity to be in my head. I’m not sleeping well, which facilitates bonus peak anxiety hours. Plus all this stress & uncertainty has opened the door to nightmares. Mostly relating to being pregnant & threatened by various dangers. With little snippets of real flashbacks thrown in for extra distress. When I’m not feeling powerless, I have a sense of being robbed. This strange, crazy time has necessitated hunkering down in family units. I don’t have one.
I have plenty of amazing people. I’m grateful, believe me. Lockdown has reinforced my belief that a husband is so not for me. With a little help from folks who are allowed outside I can manage my life just fine. If anything, it’s people to care for I want. I can’t stop myself from thinking how old my children would be now. I unintentionally look out for age appropriate lockdown activities. I imagine baking my Gran’s fruit loaf with tiny helpers. I caught myself constructing a home school lesson plan in my head. Fantasising about passing on one’s insights of the works of Lewis Grassic Gibbon is a lonely pursuit.
I have this sensation that I spend my life trying to squash. Hollow and raw. It’s as though someone scraped out all the essential parts of me with a dirty, jagged instrument. I occupy my time trying to keep the chasm sufficiently full. Packing in as many beautiful moments as I can find to prevent an inward collapse. Now my world is on hold, that void is ever present.
I know I am fortunate in many ways. I am able to stay safely at home. My housing is secure. I can video call the people I love. I will have access to healthcare if I need it. Life will resume. I do know that. I’m just struggling with the realisation that I’ll never fully heal this. Every time I think I have accepted my situation the wound is reopened & it feels fresh all over again.