Husband arrived home today after his annual walking holiday on the First World War battlefields with his mates. And I breathed a sigh of relief.
Not because he managed to come home without stepping on unexploded ordnance, though of course there was that.
Its just that since before Easter, there has been a continual series of appointments on the calendar, friends visiting (which I love, btw, don’t get me wrong), elder care visits to make (emotionally as well as physically exhausting) and illness. And I’m not very good at times like that.
When the diary fills up, or like this week, is forcibly emptied by the need to lie in bed and groan, I sort of go AWOL on myself. Do you know what I mean?
Today I read this article by Meghan Genge, and thought:
Yes. That is where I am too.
I’ve forgotten who I am. I’ve forgotten me. I’ve forgotten what I do to be me. The core practices. The core feelings.
When I’m busy, when I am rushing around from appointment to appointment, or looking after others, its not just the little things that get forgotten, like shaving my legs and flossing my teeth – no time, no time!
I forget where I put my soul.
So now His Lordship is home, I have a small window of a few weeks between elder care visits to remember. I’ve finished the hurdling for a while. As I’m recovering from a nasty virus which has knocked me flat for the last week, I plan to take things gently. But I’m going to pick up my journal first, because whenever I need a compass to find myself and my creativity, thats what I find in my hand. Pen and paper. And it never fails.