Stuck Pt. 2

Since I last saw you I have been trying to find the perfect transitional jacket. Something lightweight but not a shirt. An extra layer but nothing heavy. Not padded, unless only very thin. A decent flattering length but not too long. The midseason jacket is one of the greatest mysteries of our time. I have coats, I have clothes, I even have a gilet and yet the jacket remains elusive. Out of reach. What are you wearing? I’m serious, let me know in the comments. Add pictures if you can.

I thought I’d found The One in M&S. I giddily ordered it one evening in bed and dreamt of all the possibilities. The problems we would solve, the compliments we would receive, together. I did a click and collect and pulled Nancy up the road and into the shop (why are we in a rush Mummy?!) I ripped open the bag and put it immediately. It barely covered my bottom. I stood by the ladies’ tights, staring at the mirror and willing it to be longer. Deflated, I popped it in the returns box and had a toasted teacake in the café to lift our spirits.

Thank you if you read last week’s column, Stuck. It tumbled out of me and writing it was an act of healing. The relief of putting it somewhere, of getting it out. Like taking off shoes which have been too tight.

So the question is, what am I going to do? What am I going to do with my one wild and precious life? What is my purpose, my thing? And just how is it going to make me an income? These questions haunt me. They paralyse me. Because I don’t have the answers. Read more.

I went to bed that night and sat down to do a tapping routine for weight loss and call in all good. I only got half way through. I felt defeated, run over by the desperation for change. I started to cry.

I got into bed and carried on crying. I cried deeply and completely. A full shoulder sob. I reached for a baby muslin to blot my eyes and held on like it was holding me to the earth. As I cried I felt the pressure releasing. I felt lighter with every heave. I’d been holding it all for so long and now it was all coming out. My grip had been so tight and now my hands started to soften. I let go. ‘I’m all out of answers,’ I cried into the muslin, ‘I don’t know what to do, I’m surrendering all of it, again.’

I don’t know how familiar you are with the Disney’s Cinderella (the original one with the mice and Lucifer the cat) but when Cinderella can’t go to ball because her step sisters have ruined her dress, she runs out to the garden crying. She sobs on a bench and as she says everything is hopeless, her fairy godmother magically appears stroking her hair. I’m not saying I’m Cinderella and I’m not saying my fairy godmother appeared and gave me glass slippers but, as I lay there with my knees tucked up to my chest, staring at the wall through tears, something came to me. A vision.

I could see myself in the future. I’m sitting in a beautiful room, on an ornate two seater. There is a tea set with gold edging and someone passes me a cup and saucer with a smile. There are people moving around, setting things up, getting the lighting right. Someone is next to me on the two seater but out of view. And I’m telling them about my work. I’m being interviewed about something I’ve created. The liveliness and the setting up and the tea is for me.

I’m sat in the middle of this happy busy scene and I’m laughing. I’m completely relaxed. I’m so comfortable. I’m at peace with my body, with my work, with myself. My hair and make up are done, I’m wearing beautiful clothes. They feel so good on my skin. I feel so good in my skin. My top is cobalt blue which is a surprise because I never wear blue. But my future self does.

I can picture it now and it’s crystal clear. The wallpaper, the chatter, the teapot clinking on the tray. The warmth of the room, the blue of my top. I can see it, hear it and I can feel it. I’m where I should be. I can feel what it’s like to be that comfortable, that peaceful, that happy. I can imagine it. I can drift off in to a day dream about it. And Glennon Doyle says if you can imagine it, that’s all you need.

So that’s it. That’s the plan. A vision I had in the middle of a big cry. I have surrendered all of it to the universe and I’m going to follow the breadcrumbs. I’m going to stop forcing and pushing and just do the next right thing. I’m co creating. I’m all out of ideas so I’m going to put one foot in front of the other.

I’m coming back to now. I’m focusing on tidying the house and doing the nursery run. Just the next cup of tea, the next basket of washing, the next lunch to make. I’m seeing what happens. I am welcoming divine guidance. And in the meantime I’ll build blocks with Elliot. I’ll say my prayers of surrender and fill the tumble dryer. I’m not giving up, I’m giving over. I will hold my vision close and trust that’s where I’m going. And try to have a nice time in between.

Finally, news just in, I’ve discovered TALA and their jackets. I think it’s all going to be ok.