Oh, no, not another day of the inability to write I’ve started seven pieces; not one of them is right Frustration is building rapidly, hour after hour I’ve lost my sense of humour; my expression rather dour
I had a late night yesterday; is that why I can’t write? I look a little pale, and my complexion’s rather white The cat’s a little better, though; she’s lying in her box She’s peering out the window at the seagull flocks
I’m struggling to get this week’s piece of coursework done I’m stuck and not finding it easy, and it’s not a lot of fun I’m scouring the dictionary for words that I can use Resorting to Thesaurus while I’m desperate for a snooze
Often, when I write, the words just seem to flow Today, I should have finished this at least six hours ago It’s Mother’s Day, for goodness sake; I ought to take a rest This isn’t an exam or an English language test!
I don’t know where the time has gone; it’s almost time for dinner If this was a competition, I surely wouldn’t be the winner The evening’s drawing in now, and soon it will be dark I’m at the point of giving up, so s%d this for a lark!!
I got up in the morning feeling rather low I just cannot get going, and my progress is slow I guess I can’t be happy every single day Right now, at this moment, I’m wishing time away
Can’t concentrate on reading and not able to write I’m still in my pyjamas and looking such a fright The cat’s come out in sympathy; she’s looking all forlorn She’s been dozing in her box, which is tattered and torn
She won’t go in the garden and doesn’t want to eat She’s crawled out of her box and is sitting at my feet The pair of us are moping all around the house She’s not even tempted by the resident mouse
Should I call the doctor, or perhaps, I’ll call the vet Both will cost a fortune, and I’m already in debt I sit here looking vacantly through the kitchen door Wondering what to do; I’m just dithering for sure
Here comes the local tomcat looking for a fight He’s sitting on the fence in the last of the day’s light My cat isn’t interested; she doesn’t want the stress She wants to chill out; perhaps, a game of chess
I’m no good at games, so she’ll surely be the winner I’m making up excuses like I’m going to cook the dinner Later on, in bed, we can sleep away our sorrow Roll on, ticking clock; we can start again tomorrow.
Okay … time to be honest and confess. I’m stressed. Extremely stressed. I’ve had so much on my plate lately that I’m struggling to cope with anything other than the usual routine of life. I’ve denied my own needs and am mentally exhausted. I’m hardly even going out these days. Staying cooped up all day isn’t good for my mental health either. I’ve spent so much time and energy, both mentally and physically, getting ready for my family to stay with me, and now that the rooms are finished, I find myself in a state of near collapse. This isn’t something I like to admit readily (or publicly), yet here I am doing precisely that.
I’m w-a-a-a-y behind on so many things, not least of which is keeping up with reading my blogging friends’ posts. My brain is frazzled. My concentration shot to pieces. When I do read a post, I take it in and appreciate it and show that with a ‘like,’ but making enough sense to leave even a semi-worthy comment is proving too challenging. I’ve recently been apologising a lot for my inadequacies – for not keeping up, whether it’s reading blogs or making phone calls to friends and family.
Tomorrow, my friend has suggested we go out for lunch. She’s worried about me and tells me I need a break. She’s right, of course; admitting that to her is one thing, but admitting it to myself is something else entirely. It’ll tear me away from my laptop, to which I’ve become permanently joined at the hip, and that can’t be healthy for anyone. On Tuesdays, I take part in a garden project. It’s enjoyable, social and relaxing. I took a break from it recently as I had other priorities. I think now is the time to resume that hobby. The last time I was there, we were picking gorgeously-perfumed sweet peas – one of my favourite flowers.
One of my friends presented me with a posy of sweet peas and lavender.
Some of you will know I wrote a post about the changes going on for me at home. I wasn’t at all happy with my writing standard yesterday and seriously considered deleting it. Being a self-inflicted perfectionist isn’t doing me any favours right now. I’ve thought long and hard about writing this post and hope you will understand. I will still be here, happy to read your posts as always and perhaps, writing when inspiration strikes, but I am giving myself permission to not put myself under so much pressure to say the right things, to constantly apologise for not keeping up and making myself feel so inadequate for a while, or at least, until I’ve got my mental health sorted out a little more. So, please, don’t be offended if I don’t leave my usual style of lengthy comments. It doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your writing; just that I need to give my mind a break.
It wasn’t easy to write this post. It feels like giving up, like failure or admitting defeat, but needs must, and I owe it to myself to be sensible. Keep writing as beautifully as you ever do, my friends, and I’ll catch up with you as and when I can. Thank you for your understanding. I appreciate it in advance. Much love, Ellie xx 💝
Essentially Ellie 