Blind corners, light interspersed with shadow

Is it writer’s block /chaos /lack of discipline /general laziness that has kept me away? A combination of all, probably.  Having no formal help at home for a whole year is of course how the vast majority of the world lives, but at least in my case, it comes at the expense of personal pursuits (exercise, reading, writing etc): When there’s constantly a child tugging at my sleeve, a doorbell to answer, a dishwasher to unload or a supper that needs cooking I usually do not succeed in ring-fencing time for myself, or when it eventually rolls around it is akin to drinking a cup of cold tea.  I can’t concentrate with music on, let alone with the drip-feed of interruptions that accompanies childcare.  I’ve touched on this before, the frustrating return to the starting blocks your mind has to execute numerous times a day. I have a new-found respect for actors and the umpteen takes they pull off to deliver one successful scene.

So the last year has been eventful albeit undocumented. I turned 40, our youngest child began nursery, we dealt with a very upsetting inter-familial Cold War, we pulled our kids out of school (for a variety of unpleasant reasons) and in to a different system, we lost two sparkling and intelligent friends, both in the prime of their lives (both had young children and beloved spouses), my best friend nearly lost her newborn in intensive care and we also faced a possible move abroad for my husband’s job… So 40 was jarring not because I was anxious about aging, but because I felt all too mortal and vulnerable. What I wanted to feel was satisfaction and accomplishment, a sense of reaching my peak and knowing in which direction I was headed. Instead I found myself at a huge cross-roads with the feeling I was embarking on an arduous yet mysterious and possibly quite perilous journey.   …

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