The eagle eyed amongst you will have noticed the lack of posting this week. For those who popped me an enquiring note, thank you.♥️ Midweek I found myself with nothing I wanted to say and I put off any further thought, thinking that something would arrive by Friday. It usually does, in this blogging lark. A stroll in the countryside, the reflection on something said, or the report of Being Out & Being Me, etc. They all go into the whirlpool of imagination. Usually things connect and thus something is written.
Except, of course, this week.
I tried my hand at a few threads early on, but they were short and fizzled to nothing. I tried again on Thursday and Friday, but things were not quite there. Sure, the engine turned over, things spluttered…. only to come to a halt a little way down the road. On reflection, and to torture the metaphor a little more, it felt more gravity than progress.
This paragraph here, this is attempt number three. I set off down a path, only to stop, delete, and stall. It's as if there's something I can't quite get out, let alone express. I can't reach the point I want to make, I waffle around it, lost in the everyday while within, I feel myself almost turn around in my skin. I am off kilter and off target. The desire to create and share burns bright, but it does not fall on the things lost in darkness.
So, there is no great drama or tragedy – thankfully 🤞- only my arch nemeses, tiredness and guilt. The former from doing too much because of the latter. So much for my proud F U view on rules and conformity… In working from home I have, this week and probably last week as well, been burning the proverbial candle at both ends. Long days of back to back meetings, a quickfire lunch comprising of a fast lunch and a dog walk, then more back to backs. Serve with a late finish, cooking tea, and then pushing the bedtime back, in an attempt to claw back the modern luxury: leisure time.
It seems, as the Ever Lovely Mrs J – wise as she is wonderful – said to me over our coffee to go in the sunshine, why am I pushing myself so hard? Am I doing the wrong things – those dead time meetings where you’re present and wonder why – or that I’m struggling to get stuff done? In truth, it’s neither. I think it’s partly poor time management in letting things run on and the feelings of guilt that stop me saying no.
I think the guilt comes from me wanting to be productive and show that working from home is not shirking from home. Funny, because in the old days of the gift of a day to work at home, I’d often fly fancy. Something for me, something for work. Things would get done – certainly more than in the office – and I’d have that rare treat of extra time in Lynn mode.
Perhaps, I have forgotten the lessons on self care and the gentle riposte, I will, but not now. Maybe I need to get back in touch with afternoon tea, elevensies, and taking a break at lunch.