Making My Soul Sing

Four little words that I say quite alot. I probably just say fuck the most. But you know.

I spend huge amounts of time asking myself what the actual fuck? Usually about a choice I have made, something I have decided to do, something I decided to do but got distracted and went on a side quest and when i came back to it I had no idea what I had started or why. I know alot of people can relate to that. I’m trying to step away from – is that because I have ADHD, or is it because I am menopausal? Or both? But I have to remind myself that sometimes it doesnt even matter – it just is. Just try & ease into it. Oh crap – i forgot to look for my hoover charger. Where the actual fuck did I put that when I moved? Shitballs!!!!

I really do need to charge my hoover though. Who knew living in such a small space would require the hoover being used ALOT? I didnt.

As is the story of my life, writing this blog post is actually an avoidant activity, although right now I cant remember what I’m avoiding but I know there’s something I need to do that my brain does not want to engage with.

It’ll come back to me. Probably when I’m knee deep in this!

20 minute distraction scrolling through facebook & then online shopping where I put stuff in the virtual basket, then leave it there. Maybe forever, maybe I’ll remember I go back to it. Who knows.

Life update. I moved out of my house, my lovely FUCKING COLD stone cottage in the beautiful Ceiriog Valley. A place that pulled me, holds ancestral connections that are so comforting & healing & nurturing. I needed a place with no/ few distractions. But still in a field. A beautiful friend suggested I get a caravan & plonk it in her husbands field (he is an agri mechanic so its a field with a working yard in it). Serendipity stepped in & before I knew it I had manifested a caravan (chatting to a beautiful friend about my plans and she said oh we’ve got a spare caravan, i just need to run it past my husband but its yours) and that was that. So 8 months ago, with 2 fabulous friends we packed up my house put most of it in a storage unit and I moved (still too much stuff) into a caravan.

Why? Why the fuck not?

But also why?

Oh I had grand plans. Save money, sit in a field & do yoga, go within and do some epic deep dark healing. Oh how those plans worked out – Not! I mean, the healing has started. More than started to be fair – the saving money is still in the cerebral stage.

One of the worst things about this experience is the not knowing stuff and then having a crisis & not knowing what to do and then having to ask for help. I really dislike asking for help. I hate to think I am an inconvenience to anyone. I hate the thought (created by me, no-one has ever said this) that people think I am a useless pain in the ass. But ya know, always learning. Leaning into those uncomfortable feelings, thoughts & idea’s – especially the ones I have created in my head. Whatthe actual fuck is that all about.

Anyway, caravan life has been a rollercoaster. Calm sometimes found amidst chaos. Lets not fuck about here, I am the chaos, me and my brain. Or mind. I bring it and I somehow thrive in it. Until I need calm, then I feel like I am drowning. Suffocating in it.

Since the whole referral for a neuodivergent assessment I have also been on a huuuuuuge journey with that, reading, forgetting & reading again. Starting to understand me alot more, whilst at the same time not putting too much weight into it because well, what if that I’m not. What if they say yeh your neurotypical as fuck. Then what? I do know that I’m not but there is that underlying fear. So until I know I remain in that inbetween place. Another liminal space if you will. There’s plenty of that stuff isnt there??

The chaos I have created today is starting to sew together 10 little elves that I have crocheted – covers for Terrys chocolate oranges. They are so cute – but I couldnt stop making them, and in doing so putting off the inevitable sewing in of ends and sewing together. I hate that shit, its well boring. The making is fun, this less so. So am halfway through the 2nd one when I decided to add some songs to spotify, the got my diary out to add some stuff in that, then I put some food in the oven, oh & the water pipe still needs lagging. Thats where I have hit a feeze point. I need to ask for help to make sure it is done properly. But people are busy & I hate asking for help. So check-mate I guess?

Why do I do this? Lets make 10 elves and get all the stuff (googly eyes & pompoms) to glue on & then hate it because I have lost interest so now it is a chore.

And my hair is greasy. I only washed it today but I an going back to shampoo bars and the water here is hard ( i think) so its in a horrible transition phase that I’m not sure I can cope with. Thats a real first world problem isnt it? I actually feel quite ridiculous writing that, but its stressing me out. I can cope with my hair being abit manky but kinda looking/feeling okay-ish, but greasy? NO way man. That is horrible and the judgement of others (again created in my brain) is almost too much to think about. But thats the point I guess. I cant stop thinking about it. These stories we create, these scenarios that never happen. The conversations that wouldnt even happen but they do because I start them – just so I can explain why my hair is greasy.

Fuck me I’m exhausted already.

What else do I need to talk about? I didint even have a plan when i started writing this. Professional bloggers would be laughing at my attempt at this shit. Oh and its a full moon. That has fucked me about quite abit this week. You might read this and think I am talking shite, but honestly every month I feel it. In the 4 or 5 days leading up to a full moon by sleep is affected – not always as dramatically as this week but its affected. My sleep this week has been dogged by seemingly hours or wakefulness in the wee small hours. Lying there staring at the ceiling. EVentually drifting off only to wake again. Weird dreams. I rarely remember them, but I know they are weird because what I do remember is dreaming and thinking this is a weird ass dream.
Stimming.

This is something I want to talk about as I have recently noticed how much I actually do it. A shit lot. Obviously (for me) it took someone else to point it out to me. But once that happened, and I started to read about it I started to notice it more. And the more I have noticed it, the more I am allowing it. It kind ways. For me, some of my stimming is not regulating anything its still about masking – like I am telling my body to keep it in. But when I allow it, when I feel safe enough (I mean I live on my own so that can actually be alot of the time) wow, it is so freeing. And almost joyous. last night I was reading & I consciously allowed myself movement. The kind of movement that probably looks odd and would likely annoy alot of people, but is comforting. And it was. I lay on my side with my book and my top leg swinging around, holding it in funny ways. I’m not actually describing it very well, but the point I guess is that I didnt make myself lie still trying to focus on reading, the reading became easier when i allowed my leg and arm the freedom to move around. I’ve also found (remembered) that when laid on my if I raise my upper arm (or leg sometimes) and allow it to kind of dangle that also gives me a relief. I dont understand it, maybe its the pressure of the limb dangling? Who knows. But its a lovely feeling. I’ve found that weight/pressure are wonderful at helping me relax/feel grounded. (Full Kudos to Rory for this – thanks beaut x) I bought a plushy toy ( I think they are called) all soft & squishy and weighted. I tried it first when I was working away and had a 2.5 hour drive to & from work, instead of getting all high/hyper etc I found that sitting it on my knee when I was driving it kind of pulled me down. It was a revelation. Since then I have found that trying to go to sleep (I am a side sleeper) if I place it in my neck gap the weight helps me relax into sleep (except during a full moon obvs). Or if I lie on my spikey mat at night if i place it on my stomach it helps me go deeper into meditation/hypnosis and thus aids sleep that way. I dont say this out loud to people as I know I will be judged and I’m not ready for that, but its been life changing in the best way!

What the actual fuck did I start writing about?

I am having alot of what the actual fuck moments. Largely at myself and the ridiculous things I do or say or think of doing. Ridiculous ideas that i have to talk myself down from. At times it feels like this life – this current time on this planet is one big huge what the actual fuck. There is so much fuckery I find it harder and harder to exist and my desire to hide away increases. Anyway I should probably stop rambling.