I’ve not been feeling ‘blogging-centric’ this week. I wouldn’t call it writers’ block (because, as I’ve said before, I don’t really believe in it), and a ‘block’ normally indicates a fixable problem – there’s something wrong that just needs the right tools to budge. This is something close, but not quite.
The best I can describe is a ‘freezing'; paralysis, perhaps. The worry that I’ve said too much, exposed the belly of this family a little too often, and while none of this has slung back at me negatively – as I’ve seen it done to others – I have had the worry about what to do what to say and deep down, really, how much does any of this amount to anyway? It personally doesn’t worry me from a blogging sense (Someone: “You write very intimate stuff. Does this bother you?” Me: “No. Why, does it bother you?”), more from a inclining that an internal re-calibration will be necessary – and soon. Not while the festival looms and work will call and I will be banking up some posts in advance. Not when I (hope) to announce another book project.
This is why I needed a weekend from the family, to spend with blogging friends, as we were treated like VIPs at a Mothers’ Night Out down at Big4 Bellarine. I needed to stand alone at a cabin window to look up at the sky outside and feel the silence seep through my clothes, into my skin. I needed to be in the company of women: strong, resilient, funny and each and every one worthy of star treatment. I needed to float in the pool until my fingertips shrivelled up; I could traverse the grounds, at my own will and choosing. I kicked out my feet in the bed and ran them back and forth across the smooth sheets in almost childish glee. We got little pre-bed snack boxes and I didn’t have to share it with anyone. Finally, this morning, I went for a run around the circumference of the park, stopping on occasion at a hill in the back corner that looked over the entire grounds. From there I could see women packing cars, walking over to get a massage, or sitting out on the deck, sunning their legs while they read the newspapers. I could hear the occasional burst of conversation or laughter. These are the moments I like to remember.
Now I’m home again and life will quickly settle back into our everyday patterns. And it is completely and utterly fine. More than fine.
Disclaimer: Despite being given a night away, I was under no obligation to blog about my trip if I didn’t want to. But, as you can tell, I’ve had such a nice time I couldn’t not say so. If that makes sense. Thank you for having me.