There and back again.

Hello again, friends!

I'm safely back in Manchester, and have taken some much-needed resting and reflection time over the weekend, but I'm not ready to stop blogging yet.

Things have been good since coming back from France, as strange as it's felt not to wake up to the sound of birdsong.

I spent a lot of the weekend flopping around, catching up on sleep (and Game of Thrones) but I also spent a lot of it writing, and thinking about writing.

As I mentioned in my previous post, being surrounded by writers emphasised for me just how lonely and devoid of inspiration and community my life has been recently.

I think I need to start cherishing my own company and nurturing my relationship with myself, in the same way I would with a friend. I also need to start making a conscious effort to seek out inspiration; of course my writing has felt stagnant, when I'm doing the same things over and over every day. I need to plan more, and live more.

I need to start accepting that I both have and want a future. As silly as it may sound, a big step for me was planning to lay down some nettle wine. I've always wanted to try my hand at wine-making, but with a two year wait for the results, it's always felt somewhat out of reach.

It's always been hard for me to focus on the future. I've experienced chronic suicidality since childhood, and although I've always been ambitious, I've also never really believed I would live long enough to fulfil any of those ambitions. Applying for the retreat was a struggle in and of itself - a large part of me didn't believe I'd ever get to go. I procrastinate on learning new skills, taking on new challenges, committing to socialising - and it's damaged my life for a long time.

So here we go: I am going to live. Grasping for the future, in all its terrifying uncertainty. Planning, working, waiting, for all the magic life has to bring me.