I haven't been sleeping well lately. An insomnia of sorts. I think that it's more than that though. My days are so rich and full at the moment, it should follow that my nights are spent in a deep satisfying slumber.
Not so much.
Because I know you. But then again I can't possibly know you. I would never presume such a thing. And yet I trust you. So I'm thinking that maybe all the process and knee jerk that fill these pages, is an attempt to let you really know me. Because the relationship that I have found myself making with you here has become so important. I want you to know me. Because I like you. I think that you're pretty cool. We seem to have a lot in common. And yet these relationships confuse me also. They fall through my fingers like the sand I walk across everyday. I want to give you all something. A pebble from my favourite beach maybe? A little tangible something to connect us.
I have been given support, encouragement and solidarity here. I have poked fun at myself, railed against the world and written posts when I am full throttle pre-menstrual. It has been at once liberating and cringe worthy. There have been posts of pure self indulgence, which I have relished as a thing rarely allowed in my real life. I take risks here by showing little bits of myself to you, and I'm thinking that that is good for me.
Here's the thing....I am not like this in real life. I am a reserved listener, who is rarely as candid as I am here. Would you believe me if I told you that I often feel so lonely slap bang in the centre of this little life I have created for myself? That my voice has been lost in a sea of voices for a long time. And yet through this space my voice grows a little louder everyday. I am so thankful to you for letting me think here. I am thankful of your quiet holding of me as I go about my thinking.
I am thinking this when I should be asleep.
I am thinking that I shall have an extra cup of coffee instead.
I am thinking.
Thinking that I should open up more to those around me.
Thinking of new challenges ahead.
Thinking of change, and why it scares me.
Thinking of all the sloe and blackberries that I have picked.
Thinking that I don't give myself enough credit.
Thinking that a washed out early return from France wasn't so bad actually.
Thinking that I can be a moody cow.
Thinking that Barbara Kingsolver might just be the best thing since sliced bread.
Thinking about painting the kitchen grey.
Thinking about a slow week ahead (yay).
Thinking of that poor young journalist.
Thinking about nothing in particular.
Inspired by Annie. But also inspired by all of you.