CLOSE TO BRAVE

I am not right in the head. I don't know whether it is just the Second Half of September; it could be. But I'm feeling awful.

I asked Alastair today to recommend somewhere to go on silent retreat for a few days. Right now, it feels like a few months would do though - just to silence all this wretched noise and buzz and incessant swirling pressure. Alastair knows about that kind of thing, and he has a guidebook that might help me find somewhere.

I'm really tired. I'm really tired of being scared and vulnerable and cold, in a world that shuts out all the warmth. I'm tired of being stalked by anxiety, creeping through the shadows and pulling me down every time I try to do something close to brave.

Close to brave. I've always been there, just the wrong side of it. I can't swim because of it - my brain won't let me, and I have a lifetime's worth of thought whispering about how pathetic that is. Yet, seemingly, in those rare moments in teeth-grit and abandoned determination... I sink, and then the side seems safe again.

See. Not right in the head. Odd, scared and uncomfortable in every single aspect of my aching years.

I'll be alright though. It'll pass and I'll get back to my usual self. Then we'll do some poetry and some time travel and some fun all over again. I hope.