I haven’t been very comfortable in my body for the last year or so. Covid19 and the deaths of both my parents within 2 years hit my emotional and physical health dramatically The Germans have a word for it, don’t they always? They call it Kummerspeck or grief bacon and it feels apt. Composed of cortisol and solidified tears it settled around my middle in a way that felt unhealthy and was as unwanted as the causes. I have been working hard to regain my fitness levels for the past year and to get a handle on my emotional eating patterns. It’s been a real struggle at times, and whilst…
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Sometimes desire
This used to be the only place we met. We lived apart, had separate lives, friends, and families. Now, most of our kids have met the other. The venn diagram of our friends has many more people in the centre. Our lives intersect in so many places without bleeding into each other so much that we don’t know where we both begin and end. We’re here, a hotel room in the afternoon, a bottle of champagne and some sushi down, chatting, snoozing and enjoying each other’s company. We’re intimate, close, and connected. It’s a gift neither of us take for granted. And, easy though it might be to hold what…
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A Manifesto for my 63rd year
I started the piece of writing thinking I was going to make a list of places I wanted to visit and experiences I wanted to have. I guess that will have to wait for another post as this is what came out of the ends of my fingers.
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Endure this for me
As I let out a yelp I glanced at His face
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Breakfast in Bed
Breakfast in Bed? With an affectionate cat? Well if you can’t be with the one you love … love the one you’re with! Happy Valentine’s Day to us all!
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Capturing desire
I take these pictures to see myself as desirable, to see myself the way others see me, to create desire in myself, for myself. In that respect it is very connected to my creativity. Desire is the engine to my will, the need to connect is the fuel. How do you create desire? Let me know 💋
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Object Permanence
He’s gone again. It was a Friday morning full of leaving. No matter how hard I try it always fore-shadows the day. I am saying good-bye before I need to, protecting myself from the pain and beginning to wrap myself up in don’t cares and see you soons that sound as hollow as they feel. This time was different. I was monitoring myself, checking in with how I really felt rather than my habitual ways of dealing with separation. The old wounds were still there, I could feel the scar tissue itching. My old habits were waiting in the wings for their cue but centre stage was a clarity of…
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This is it, this is us!
He is snoozing in an armchair next to me as the boat engine rumbles away behind us. Fuelling the warm radiators, the hot water, the cosiness we find ourselves in, a week after he joined me. A week after our seven year old long distance relationship transformed into one where we share the same address and go up the stairs to bed together every night. This us started online. It was not meant to become something that would cause us both to unpick fabric we had been weaving with every intention of wearing ’til death us do part. To those that might judge us I would say you cannot judge…
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It wouldn’t be enough
A long time ago, in a small market town, there lived a woman who thought she knew what it was to be loved and that if she didn’t feel loved the problem was with her. She spent a lot of time adjusting her attitude, practising gratitude, and learning all she could about how to keep her husband and children happy. Because that was a her role, her aim in life, and her happiness. She knew this. She also knew that she would die someday and her gravestone would read ‘could have done better’. When she met a man who seemed to offer everything she needed, Who understood her need to…
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When next we meet – I will wear purple
It’s been 119 days since we met. Since I breathed in your scent at the delicious point where your shoulder meets your neck. Under the crisp collar, a tender spot that lures me everytime we meet to breathe deeply and sigh, and smile. Home I think. Home I feel. This is home, I hear myself saying.
