How’s it going?

Did everyone go through the good news portal with me on Friday 9 June? Obviously out there is abject misery mostly but I’ve had the fucking best time since I managed to rob those test results and stop fretting.

Last week was really incredible for conversations with amazing folks, very inspirational chat, my brain’s been whirring away with ideas. I really enjoyed working on a brand commission and some portrait sessions. Best of all, I gave myself a proper treat of a road trip. Mostly thanks to an offer from some clients to guinea pig their new holiday home. I spent a few nights away from home and just indulged myself in all the good stuff and some summer cliches. I’m a not nonchalant as fuck wee thing, I feel everything deeply, including all the good stuff when it invariably comes back around. I feel so very lucky. I had a few days were I felt like I wasn’t in a constant state of fight or flight, that I could just be. I’m very much trying to keep it that way.

Anyways, I swam (peed) in 2 seas, a pool and for the first time, in a loch. In the loch, it was just me and a beautiful little blue dragonfly dancing around my face. It was shallow so the water was warm, the colour of a fine malt but very much did not taste like one. Well slidy rocks though, no sultry way in or out of that bad boy. Geologied out ma nut in there till the thunder came.

I spent a whole day in my pants on a remote beach, making cyanotype sun prints, shooting some film, swimming and writing. For me, I struggle to get into a flow with making things, my time is all as scattered as my thoughts and I’m shit with routine even thought I need discipline, so little rituals help a lot. They help me to ground myself, to self regulate when the nasty stuff surfaces from nowhere and to focus. I was having such an idyllic time I had a ‘fucking rob and sell everything that’s not tied down, get a fancy winnebago and fuck off into the sunset’ kind of vibe going. Then I got stuck behind one for like 8 hours on the road home and ugh.

I stayed at a hotel one night last week which was overrun with grumpy old couples sitting eating in silence. It was amazing. You could hear a pin drop in the restaurant. Well, except for this one old boy who was British but speaking in French and only really at the other guy’s wife who I’m 100% sure he was trying to seduce. His wife was livid. The other guy silent. It was delicious to watch. The wife eyed me up and down later on and I just beamed at her. I fucking love that type of people watching. That’s not even the observation. The point being literally all the men in a small town like that will look at you with the hungry eyes as they usually only get to chat to grumpy pensioners.

I’ve been hatching plans to bring some of my personal work together into one tangible thing but I’ve not made it yet so sssh. I love how I only ever figure these things out just in time for busy work time and school holidays. The idea involves learning some new processes. I need to give myself a challenge so it’s all good. I want to take my time with it all but I’m also self aware enough to know that if there isn’t a deadline it could take forever.

I’ve been doing all the growing (mostly my belly thanks to the depression diet of the last wee while). Here’s my random recent anecdotes/observations:

I went for a run one morning last week in the heat. I’m really not very fit at all, exercise always come last in our busy house. Also I prefer dancing and shagging. But there’s nothing like a cancer scare to get you moving. I always have the tunes on loud to drown out the wheezing. I must have been proper puffing and panting cos some grandad stopped gardening to stand and clap me on. Not really the sign of a passing athlete.

The whole time I’m thinking, ‘fucksake, I can’t do this, I’ll never be any good, I’m not good enough, I can’t’ etc etc and then I get to the Mussel sculpture that folks always seem to say is a clam but hiya, it’s Musselburgh. And the penny drops that I’ve done halfway despite telling myself I can’t. I’m already doing it, despite myself. I’m already doing it. And the rest of the way back I realise I do this about most things in life and now I just need to tell the anxious thoughts to shut up and listen and watch cos I’m already fucking doing it. So that’s my new mantra, every time I feel myself start to ruminate or catastophize. Pipe down hen, you’re already doing it.

As high priestess Ru Paul says, “Don’t let your feelings sabotage your experience in this life. Do not.” I think a lot of the anger I was carrying was cos I’ve been so frustrating feeling like past experience being stuck in my nervous system was the same as self sabotage but it’s not, it’s just my body learnt to protect me, which is amazing. It just takes more time than for some to learn when you are safe. So I’m not going to hide away from anything anymore and I’m not going to blame myself for being human.

Why would you not chase after dreams, like why the fuck would you not? We’re here one time. It’s only small minded people who would ever tell you not to go after something that filled you with joy. I had this amazing conversation with a client who I’m delighted to have worked with a couple of times recently and will again soon. Having been in relationships with men who try to keep you small by undermining your creative voice or self expression or personality or confidence… they’re maybe doing that cos they’re intimated. Perhaps they have to be the creative one as a lot of it is just posturing and not from a genuine place. Those types of men are not open to being collaborative as they come from ego and also they just think women have a place, a supporting role, making the tea, being the good little wife or a dirty hoebag, whatever. When I was younger I mistook narcissistic peacocking for real self expression in some.

I think creative people are generally full of wonder at things and want to see others create and express themselves freely as it’s inspiring and magic to witness. But there are just some truly vapid talentless pricks out there, that you maybe meet as a naive teenager, who have always been cringe but have no idea how funny their attempts at songs are. Music really does heal in very wild ways sometimes. Ask me for the link, it’s like a brutal parody, pure car crash and it’s very very cathartic to genuinely laugh in the face of your rapist.

Also stay the fuck away from people who think speaking your truth is being dramatic or openly sharing struggles is being miserable. Nothing and nobody is perfect and it would be dull if it was. We’re all shit at times but to grow and be kind with ourselves and others has to start with us being honest about the depths of who we are, what we feel, think, want. And we have to push past comfort to really thrive and take responsibility for our actions. But also to talk about difficult stuff in any detail you have to have got to a certain point in healing yourself from the hurts of it all. To be in your joyful times you have to face all the crappy ones. I’ve never appreciated good times more than I do now, I’m living a life I always wanted to build and it can be hard but it’s worth it all.

Crack yourself wide open like a nut and butter the world with yer alchemy.

And for anyone who’s been following my recent chat, I still haven’t officially heard from the doctor. Lost count but sure it’s been 3 whole months. I’m so glad for women who break the rules or I’d still be anxiously waiting to see if I then needed to wait on a scan to then find out if etc etc…that’s a whole other rant about protecting the NHS and not treating public services like assets to strip for cronies’ gains.

Some of the stuff I made on the beach and my travels will no doubt show up on here soon enough, I’ve still to develop the film and all that stuff. This week I’m catching up on edits, trying to schedule some posts about all the work I’ve been doing (swearing at fuckin apps), along with a couple of shoots. In the meantime, a very lucky little beach witch is sending you all some good times x