Things I've done this week instead of writing my novel (4)

This Lion's Gate Portal I'm manifesting... the energy, drive and self belief to put pen to paper in a strictly metaphorical sense and write this beautiful wonderful dreamy story that I've had in my head for some time now. The issue with my brain - aside from what's awkwardly grown inside it and been removed then zapped, plus the trendy streak of neurodiversity that everyone seems to be loving at the moment - is that it loves a quick win. Oh, I suppose that's the streak's fault, actually. Quick wins built on short bursts of excitement that soon fizzle and fade. I find it difficult, as I've said in previous posts under this sweet little literary umbrella, to put time in and trust that something will come from my efforts in the long term. I want to stomp my feet and sing out of tune into the face of a golden goose, 'don't care how, I want it NOW'. 

So, what have I done this week instead of writing my novel? 

I turned 32. I had drinks and dinner with some of my dearest friends in London, and loved the vegan Thai place so much I went back a few days later with my parents, after they took me on a special birthday trip to see a matinee. Speaking of - I've officially been in the same room as Vanessa Williams. Teenage me who loved Ugly Betty would scream. I had local friends round for drinks also, partly to celebrate my ageing, but also I suspect to meet and cuddle the cat. I was talked into signing up for a fancy fresh cat food subscription by a handsome man in a train station, who has one too many a's in his name. I tried a lavender mezcal negroni - good, but didn't enjoy all the little 'bits'. My friend and shop co-manager went on our magical annual trip to the crystal wholesalers'. I got a takeaway pizza for one after the weekend wound down. I watched The Parent Trap. A friend and I went to a local flea market. I shared a bed with two different men in the space of a week, but didn't shag either of them. I visited my friends' new cafe on the seafront, and felt a swell of pride seeing how busy it was - which threatened to ebb away as I waited more than 20 minutes for my coffee order. I had my favourite bourbon biscuit gelato. I gazed up at the Shard, and wondered if I liked it or not. I finally put all my prints in frames, and it took over an hour. I made myself jumbo oat porridge with almond butter, raisins, banana, protein powder, seeds, coconut chips - and a juicy splodge of jam. I let the cat outside on her own for the first time, and didn't panic too much. My gardener friend and I started work on my 'second patio'. I made a cameo appearance at my godfather's 60th birthday party, at the old farts' golf club. I went to see an exhibition put on by incredibly talented trans humans, and caught up with Charlie Craggs. I looked up how to manifest effectively. I finally got an appointment with Psychiatry UK to discuss ADHD medication, three years after my diagnosis. I toasted a lot of sourdough, and froze even more. I accidentally spent a few of my Writing Space sessions doing actual 9-5 type work, rather than furthering my own creative projects. I unblocked my ex on WhatsApp, in case he was planning on wishing me happy birthday (of course, he didn't). I wondered aloud in therapy why I feel the need to celebrate every anniversary, every significant date, even the sad ones; to try and reclaim them and make them count for something, to rewrite the story with the old scraps. 

I cried almost every day, at least once, in the run up to my birthday. I questioned everything. I unloaded on social media. I yelled down the phone. I made a scene. I genuinely considered going on anti-depressants for the first time in my life. I had a blood test, which revealed that my cortisol levels are high and my B12 count is low. I ordered a lot of supplements. I woke up on my birthday with my dark tortie girl on my chest, and felt calm. 

Photo by lil artsy. (I had birthday cupcakes this year)

Thanks for reading.

G. x