Nine Lives

An update

I’ve always thought of myself of having lived several lives instead of one.

I try on lives like Mr Benn’s outfits (UK Gen Xers will get this, otherwise, see below)

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mr_Benn

Each time, hoping it will be a good fit.

PLEASE, be the right one. I’m tired of entering this ‘changing room’.

Please let the next costume fit like a glove, be comfortable. Please let me love my new role, and if I do……can I keep it? Please!

I’m dog tired of returning to that same shop with that smirk-faced fella who knows all my previous fuck ups incarnations.

Relate?

Every time you try on a new ‘life’ - a new version of yourself - you embrace it wholeheartedly, throw yourself into it, because all you wanna do is feel at ease, be happy. Finally be ‘home’. Right?

In retrospect, 2020 marked the start of one of those ‘lives’.

Shitshow changed everything.

Although it was a bleak time to be alive, rising up against the injustice of it gave me new purpose.

I joined with others against a common enemy, the government and MSM.

I put myself out there boldly, brightly, brazenly. The world needed examples of strength and defiance, to know there were other like-minded individuals challenging the coercive narratives, calling out the constant stream of bullshit we were faced with.

Fast forward 5 years and once again, I find myself back to square one. Without cause and purpose. Back in the changing room, wondering who TF I’m supposed to be.

The common enemy still exists, but deliberately orchestrated fragmentation has meant that many of those I united with, have upped and left.

On a personal level, the last couple of months have been traumatic. I feel hurt and alone. My head is mashed. (See poems!)

Sometimes, the world turns like a magical carousel, you savour the dreamy vistas. Other times, you cling on for dear life before being cruelly flung into a deep, suffocating ditch.

(Okay……..someone might have watched a documentary about faulty fairground rides the other night!😉)

You’re left bruised and disoriented. Alone. You try to pick yourself back up but don’t know where to start.

That’s where I am right now.

I realise sometimes you have to be lost to find yourself and I’m desperately searching for my reason. Wondering where my true north is, where I’m heading……I don’t know.

And when you don’t know your place on a personal level, you don’t care about the wider world either, do you? It sits beneath you like a glaze on a donut. You are uninvested, have no stake.

I want to write things that move people, but how can I when nothing moves me?

Sometimes, it just feels about survival, doesn’t it?

Intuition is whispering that my next ‘life’ should be low key. Understated. Minimal visibility. No red lipstick. No flamboyance. No nice dresses. The polar opposite to what led me to my current pain. Hell - if I didn’t think I’d look like Phil fucking Mitchell, I’d shave my head again. Must still have a bit of vanity left, eh?😂

Does it involve writing? I don’t know.

Writing also led me to pain.

Remember the battle scene in ‘The Sword In The Stone’?

Merlín and Madam Mim transform into different versions of themselves in order to become best equipped for the challenges before them.

In the end it’s not the biggest entity who wins. It’s the smallest, the most creative. The smartest.

That’s how I feel right now. That in order to face this chapter, I need to change my persona, my energy.

Sometimes you need to expand, other times call for contraction. It doesn’t mean you’re less, just that you need to show up differently.

I feel the urge to shrink down. Go unnoticed. I have no wish to be a germ as Merlin was in ‘The Sword and The Stone’, but I’m wondering right now if maybe I better serve myself and others as a tiny ant.

After all, every ant in the world has just as much a role to play in life as a tiger, doesn’t it? And if I try living as a humble ant, maybe my path will become clearer.

I’m going to pause the paid subscription and take the pressure off myself with writing. I don’t want to mess anyone around, but I also know the right ones will understand. I can be no-body’s bitch.

We’ve been here before and I apologise for being such a flake, but what else can I do? I didn’t know this year was gonna go the way it has. I wanted better. Tried for better. I did. I was doing okay but then I was served a curve ball royale.

I know some people are probably thinking “Fucks sake girl, get some antidepressants down ya neck”

But what is life if we are not experiencing it raw? Even if the nettles sting?

I might be inconsistent…….but I can’t be insincere.

I figure staying off social media for a while is worth a go.

For those of you with Substacks, I may not be commenting your posts so much, due to the detox I desperately need, but please know that I still support you in your endeavours.

Meanwhile, if you miss me, I have more than 350 free posts in the archive.

Root for me as I trial life as an ant.

Root for me as I try to locate that elusive North Star. My reason.

Root for me as I try new roles like Mr Benn.

But most of all, just root for me to feel rooted.

And I promise, I’ll keep on rooting for all of you guys too.

X