the first inch of daffodil shoots are showing in the sunniest corner of my garden. they’ve been there for countless years, planted by previous generations here, dividing and growing slowly under the earth, year on year. and each season they appear in their own good time.

I love how bulbs have everything they need to grow, right inside them. they need water and light to head towards. and given those they will grow in the dark, invisibly at first but inevitably until they come out into the light, triumphant, and bloom, invincibly.

a few tough days here, with illness and general Januaryitis. ย definitely at the putting down roots in the dark stage.

trying to re-electrify the UFYD project which ground ignominiously (Igor-miniously?!) to a halt before Christmas.

“Throw the switch! There’s paperwork to be done, you know!”

re-finding my running mojo and then losing it to norovirus. bleurgh. a rising feeling of nausea where the only consolation is that I used to feel like this every morning.

reading articles on Dry January, and wanting to say to every last damn one of them, “Well, thinking about it is a start. But is it enough? Could you be happier? Why is it so ludicrous to even envisage living without alcohol that we have to give ourselves a national month as a social get-out clause? And isn’t the fact that you are finding it almost impossible a sign that a month might not be enough?ย ” sigh. because I have been there (though with Lent, back in the days before Dry January was invented). and I know that a lot of people hope that it will press a re-set button for them with alcohol. maybe you can, if you’re still walking down the corridor towards the down escalator. maybe it is possible to walk away, for some people. (though I’m pretty sure I’ve been on that escalator, at different angles of inclination, my whole life.) and I’m just not sure that when you’re on that escalatorย down that it is possible to run up again. and the only way to find out is to try it, and for it to fail. and that just breaks my heart, when in fact if you decide to take wing, you can just fly away

looking at my daughter and seeing so much of myself in her. wondering what I can do to help her and to protect her without smothering her as she grows up in this big tough world with so many pitfalls.

“So, little girl, what do you want to be addicted to when YOU grow up?” (ps. not my daughter. obv. but that’s what happens when you go to Disneyland: you end up on some completely random sobriety blog. that’s the kinda world we live in, babes.)

so, in summary: wanting to fix everyone else. and wanting myself to be completely, utterly fixed and perfect, right now, please. and, ideally, for it to be spring already, and for the daffodils to be out.

I am recognising, acknowledging, accepting, and moving on from these wishes in myself, and am grateful for this space to do so. thank you for your patience in reading! am trying to give myself time to be a bulb under the earth. growing unseen till it’s time to bloom. time for a bit of Supremes, I think. have a happy Tuesday!