9.1.18 Bedroom window
It has taken me nine days to remember the significance of daily. I had been excited, as I often am by new things and new ideas. Marking out this new place for myself was like finding a new room in my house. A great wide room, that's what it's felt like, with light all through it. I am still excited, but today there came an "oh".
Daily blogs. Daily. Oh.
I remembered today that daily means making a choice: either I share the truth of my days with you, or I try to curate and twist and tidy.
Mark out a space and there will always be things hidden outside the edges, and what you put into the space will depend on what you have to pick and choose from. You can see it in those Instagram lifestyle feeds: every day a perfect square of beauty and calm. The people that craft them fill their lives with things to make those digital squares prettier and that is fine and good. They're lovely to look at. We know that is not their whole story, they just happen to have interiors and accessories and furniture and light and fancies enough to fill those squares and make different combinations of beautiful with them.
Now I am putting something here every day, I can see the relief in that, I can see the safety, and I realised I don't have it. Curation takes energy and it takes a vast array of things to hide behind, things to fill the space with that aren't you. Once a week is easy, I would guess. More frequently takes a bigger arsenal of pleasing things.
Here, there's only me, a tiny, jumbled house I struggle to leave, a handful of dingy, dirty streets, and very occasionally a story to tell. They are special to me, but today I realised it's a vulnerable assortment of things to choose from because they're all I have. I fill the whole frame here and I am often sick and boring. Unless I lie or spin a glamour, daily means sharing that with you and not being afraid.
I recognised this feeling. I've felt this before. I haven't lived with another adult for nearly 8 years and although there is loneliness in that at times, the invisibility can be addictive. You are not often seen, and that can be a sly and convenient place to deceive from. From that place, you can quickly start to arrange a life where you only show the things you think are lovable and easy. It took new intimacy to break that in me: deliberately close and special friendships where I lost the ability to hide too much or too often. Daily mattered. Text or see someone every day and you come up against that choice again very quickly: am I going to be careful and only say and share the things I think will make them like me, or am I going to show them the truth of me? For me, exhaustion makes the battle shorter and so, soon, there I am, whole and raw, hoping I won't make the other person run away. And sometimes they don't, and that is what love is. That is the terror and beauty of intimacy.
Today I realised, that's what's going to happen here too: that's what daily is going to mean. I don't have the energy or the resources to pretend or make pretty. Daily is going to mean being seen.
Today I had a fever of 40.5°C and mostly lay very still in bed and thought these things. I watched my cat who watched the world and, later, I wrote it all down.
That was today, then. I'll see you tomorrow.