posted on: Friday, 31 July 2015

The strange displacement of not living at home. I am finding it is one to get used to; perks and disadvantages. We are staying in the middle of a village, hemmed in by the water, where there are a number of the most beautiful houses. All week I have wondered by, peering over walled gardens, to glimpse some of the prettiest real estate in the country. So many are shut up and dark during the week, signifying that they are holiday homes or weekend bolt holes for Londoners wanting to head South. I surmise this, not really knowing, but assuming. We are living day to day, popping back to our real house which presently looks unrecognisable from certain angles. The building work continues relentlessly, which is good, as we had a pause for so long that the inactivity was making me tetchy. Now I am looking forward again, looking toward they day when I can move back into my white-washed, new place. It'll be months...

Living out of a suitcase limits what I can wear each day - at the same time liberating and frustrating. I miss the choice that my wardrobe offered. I come home and peer in it, wondering what I will need (facing the prospect of shuttling items of clothing across town) and then conclude I will make do; dress down.

A return to yoga, always always welcome. How I miss it when it doesn't feature in my life.

Reading 'The Goldfinch' by Donna Tartt...all 900-odd pages of it. Stunningly well written, I am only a third of the way through.

Constantly and endlessly formulating my book plot in my mind. Yet not actually writing much! Too much upheaval. Time to start in earnest...ever the procrastinator. There is a reason why not everyone writes a book; it's hard!

New silky trousers that I can ill-afford but they did just speak to me. Impulse buy.

A funny old summer. And of course the weather is changeable and most of the time I wonder whether when September comes I will look back and think where did that summer go? It feels like time is skipping by at such a rate.

Living with less.

Reverting in all cases to my usual mantra that white is best.

Liking the free-fall but secretly missing the routine.

As ever, undecided; vintage Lou.

The unwanted visitor...

posted on: Tuesday, 7 July 2015

I have been absent I know; a horrid recurrence of my jaw pain symptoms have floored me. I have lived with this chronic pain for so long, on and off and I genuinely thought I had made peace with it; it affected my life, yes, but I managed it and most importantly (for me) I could control the way I felt about it. It's such a psychological trigger in my little world. It causes a downward spiral that I really struggle to stem, despite the regularity with which it comes back. It started in April, got worse and worse, I went to see another specialist whose diagnosis initially pleased me, (no bone damage), but meanwhile the symptoms became more and more entrenched. Now I am just in it.

painting via here by martin wehmer
I know deep down it will pass, I know life has a way of offering up phases, I know it's meant to make me stronger, I know that there will be a Pinterest quote to get me through the dark moments. But I just wish I didn't have it. I have read extensively about living with pain and one method is to embrace it; to welcome it in and study it, rather than try to run away. I am trying. But in amongst the rest of my daily existence, spending time with such an unwanted visitor is beyond trying. I don't want to be that mother/wife/friend - the one who is always quiet because I am breathing through the pain.

Funnily enough, the specialist I saw described the profile of those who suffer with this particular condition (he called me an 'Olympic' teeth-clencher! My facial muscles are shot). Nine out of ten times women, deep-thinking, they (we) install 'coping strategies' to deal with life's stresses which mean complete and utter internalisation of feelings. Achiever. Fine bone structure. Intelligent. Takes life waaay too seriously.


I think I'd rather be stoopid and carefree! ;-)

Otherwise, life is about summer holidays and clearing the house ready for the build which WILL start next week! Hurrah. Well - kinda hurrah. We will live out of a suitcase for most of the summer, an eventuality which we have convinced ourselves will be character-building and exciting. We have rented a cottage by the sea near here for a week or so to have a 'stay-cation' and will be returning to Portugal later in the summer. I am looking forward to it, and hope in our absence the worst of the work will get done. Clearly, I get the parallel of this life challenge and my pain. I guess that upheaval and I don't sit well together. Delicate flower that I am!

Both children have broken up from school so we are already into lazy mornings and a million haphazard arrangements to occupy them. We have yet to fall into a rhythm. There's not a lot of writing going on - a fact which bothers me more and more as I consider September looming. I thought I would have written the bare bones of something by now in readiness for my Masters Degree. But no. Life got in the way. I conclude that this is normal; this is why not everyone who can write is a writer. It takes such discipline; daily toil. I am sure a change of scene will help.

Take care and above all else, see the funny side! xxx