I’ve always thought writer’s block was the absence of an idea. I didn’t realize it was this huge THING. This physical feeling of disgust that you get when you even start to think about putting your fingers to the keys, or pen to paper. I’ve opened my laptop so many times in the past 6 months and have felt such an overwhelming feeling of EW + a dash of self loathing that I’ve wanted to hurl it across the room. Sometimes I’ve written a few sentences and then just thought, “okay this is shit time to stop typing,” and gone back into my little hole.
I just took a trip. It was a really amazing trip. Like, Life Changing trip. I really need to stop saying like. And I knew it was going to be (Scotland + London, obvi). And I think I was a little bit counting on it to ‘lift’ the block. I believe it got me there a little bit. And it should have — I got to experience places I’ve only dreamt about going (GLENCOE !!), spend time with family I hadn’t seen in years, and I met someone who excited me for the first time in what seems like forever — but then I came home hoping to write a nice little blogaroo and I still couldn’t imagine writing about any of it. Until I got scared of losing that Holiday High.
So, obviously today is Valentine’s Day (and my half birthday HOLLA except I was just told by a good friend that as we get closer to 30 thou shalt not celebrate thy half birthday anymore...whatever I’m popping a bottle anyway) and as you will know if you have lost someone important to you, holidays are always absolute bullshit. They suck. Doesn’t matter which one. St. Patrick’s Day? OMG, this is my fave silly holiday I need to send mom a pic of us all at the bar… Halloween? Mom would be OBSESSED with this costume. Valentine’s Day? Mom would HATE all of these horrible flower displays in Target. Doesn’t matter. Something’s going to trigger you and you’re going to think oh fuck and then you’re probably going to get very sad. So that’s what happened. And yes, it was indeed the gaudy roses in Target.
I started feeling that sadness, that darkness creeping back in. And I immediately thought FUCK NO GET AWAY FROM ME because I’ve been feeling so insanely good since getting back. Minus a wee bout of tonsillitis + a sinus infection. Leave me alone, I’m 27. But anyways, it’s just been trying to settle back in all afternoon, no matter how hard I try and push it away.
And some of it was totally unexplainable. Just wafting on in. Like a lovely little reminder that HEY GIRL DON’T FORGET ABOUT THAT LOVELY CLINICAL DEPRESSION YOU GOT GOING ON THERE! And some of it was totally connected to my mother. I kept looking at photos of her and wishing I could talk to her. Hell, I did talk to her. I spoke out loud in the car and had conversations with her. I told her about London. About Scotland. I told her I missed her, and I laughed with her when one of our songs came on the radio. And then I got a little weepy. And then I smiled through the tears because I knew she was with me.
I went to the library and wandered around and tried to let the stories in the building comfort me. OMG reading that back sounds SO pretentious, and I’m absolutely leaving it in there just to remind myself that I am an asshole. But really, I love being surrounded by books, I find some sort of solace in it… that you could pick up any one of the thousands of volumes and completely lose yourself in another world, if just for a few minutes. It was a nice distraction for a little, but eventually The Darkness (perhaps we shall call it TD?) started sliding its way back into my DMs. Sorry, it’s been a while, let me get my grove back.
I got home and put on some music and I danced around and did squats in the kitchen. The dogs were not amused. I put on Premier League Football (British soccer league) thinking the accents and silly commentary may cheer me up. I sent stupid memes to my best friends. Fuck! Nothing was doing it. And then I finally gave up and just kind of leaned into it. I poured myself a glass of diet wine (no, I’m not kidding) and tried to accept that it was going to come, and that the high of the last two glorious weeks wasn’t going to last forever. And that’s when I found myself subconsciously reaching for my laptop and opening to this page.
I don’t think I’m quite ready to talk about this past year. Actually, not sure if I will ever be. I think all I can do is be so insanely grateful that it’s over and that I’ve made it to the other side. And grateful for the few wonderful moments – and people – that got me through.
And I’m grateful that I am not one of those people who hate Valentine’s Day, but rather am able to celebrate the incredible amounts of love in my life. And scroll through my photo album of the Scottish Highlands and beautiful photos of my mother and talk to friends and write some shit (probably literal shit in this case) and drink some vino. And also be super grateful that my tonsillitis ain’t the coronavirus.
For now, I shall sit here with my FitVine Wine (google it), and think about how to accept that TD is going to be a constant creep in my life. LOL who am I kidding. I will think about thinking about how to accept it. We all know it’s not happening that quickly.
Also this wine kind of tastes like curry…
You can take the future even if you fail
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I’ll cross the stream, I have a dream
1 thought on “curry wine”
God I love your voice. And I have missed it so much. Happy dances. Everything in this piece is perfect. One hundred percent perfect. You have such wild talent girl. Now, don’t let my insane gushiness but completely correct opinion stop you from repeating this process and blessing the world with your awesomeness. Just keep going. Hearts and flowers to you. Not the tacky kind. (p.s. Ugh, on the curry wine. Curry and wine should be separate dishes, though sometimes married, not in/on the same vessel, that’s just my HO though.)