Notes from the Patio in May

Offsetting the rollercoaster brain activity that is living with anxiety

Photo by Mark Hamilton on Unsplash

I’m going to talk to you today about anxiety, imposter syndrome and the joy of being outside, but before I do, you might want to know about this - my upcoming Dawn and Dusk Chorus zoom wiring sessions. The next sessions begin next week. The sessions run over five days, and there are two versions - the Dawn Chorus : 7-8am UK time, and the Dusk chorus 6-7pm UK time.

The dawn and Dusk Chorus sessions are not about pounding words out to meet a word count, they are not about producing work, they are about seeing the day in, and/or out, in a calm, peaceful place of creativity.

Sessions begin with a gentle hello, then I read a poem or an extract of creative non fiction and I offer up an optional prompt. After that we write. Some people work to the prompt, some people work on long term stuff, some people use that hour to set up submissions, or to update diaries or write letters. It is about the creativity and giving creativity the space to happen, allowing yourself the time to work and prioritising your creativity, just for an hour.

To book your place'/s on next week’s sessions, here are the links:

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Last week was such a busy week. This week is also a busy week.

Last week was very much about finishing the play I’d been writing in order to get started pulling in potential actors for a day of events celebrating Anne Brontë and her links to Scarborough. If you didn’t know, Anne Brontë is buried in my home town, Scarborough. This fantastic piece of literary history has mostly been overlooked by the town, until the formation of the Anne Brontë association who are trying to raise more awareness, not just about Anne’s death here, but about the amount of time she spent here as governess to the Robinsons. The Brontë’s loved the Yorkshire coast and it’s one of my own passions, telling the stories of the sisters and their love for the coastal regions that I call my home. On the 28th May, the 175th anniversary of Anne’s death, her last visit to the town, we’ll be celebrating her life and her influence on other artists and there will be an extract of my play performed as a script in hand reading. So right now I am busy spinning plates and wearing the hat of playwright/director/producer for my lovely little event. You can find out more about this event here:

Alongside this and running the Friday zoom workshops for Telling Your Story, I was launching the latest issue of Spelt magazine. It was a fantastic evening, warm and nourishing as ever. Poetry, creative non fiction, poetry film and two guest speakers - Steve Nash and Sharon Black. I couldn’t have hoped for a better evening. You can watch it here:

And then as if that wasn’t enough, my good friend Charlotte Oliver, who is the poet in residence for Big Idea by the Sea, got in touch to tell me that BBC Radio Four’s Front Row programme had requested an interview with us both, and requested I read a poem of mine, that they had chosen. I was so excited. Front Row is on my list of career highlights.

On the day of the interview I got caught up in traffic and was running late. As I cut across an open carpark to save time, I looked down at my watch and missed a kerb, and tripped. I went absolutely flying and landed in the worst way. Well, actually I could have landed fully on my face, which would have been worse. I landed fully on both knees bending my foot right over. Somehow my jean’s knees were still intact, beneath though, the carnage of having skinned both knees, probably as a fabric burn on impact and when I stood up, glasses half hanging off my face, I realised I couldn’t put any weight on my foot. The worst bit was the utter embarrassment of having fallen so spectacularly across the road from a bus stop full of people, AND a traffic jam. I leapt back on my feet and like the consulate professional I am/someone too embarrassed to ask for help, limped a half mile up a hill to get to the interview. It was worth it. I had a fantastic time. I love talking about the town and loved reading my poem.

You can hear me and Charlotte chatting to Nick Ahad here:

It’s a fab show, a really diverse book at the cultural growth in the town. We are right towards the end.

I limped back to the car afterwards, and made it home. The following days my foot was black and blue and swollen like a balloon and I couldn’t even bear to touch my knee. Somehow, I think with all the plate spinning and the come down after the radio show (thanks for all the kind messages by the way!) and my poor foot (is it broken or bruised, still not sure) and being incapacitated and unable to go walking or really do anything, I got myself in a real puddle of imposter syndrome going over and over everything and all the places that I had not done what I wanted, not managed it, felt inferior…all that stuff. I’m also on the brink of my book, The Ghost Lake, going ‘live’ and officially being open for pre order, and currently awaiting endorsements. It’s a bit of a hinterland of excitement and anxiety. Anyway, what’s any of this got to do with my patio, you might be wondering, quite rightly.

Photo by Antônia Felipe on Unsplash

Yesterday I managed to limp onto the patio and feed my roses. They are nothing spectacular, but they are one of the only plants I haven’t killed with kindness (I tend to over water). I got down to eye level with the plants and touched them, and trimmed the bad bits off. I weeded my other plant pots, and I fed my plants and I emptied some other pots ready for planting up with new stuff. I stepped away from my electronic life. I stepped away from my emails and my online life and all the post its and To Do lists and I sat in the sun and watched the swallows and listened to the jackdaws and crows arguing and the baby birds in the trees. I watched the bees. I watched the butterflies. I just sat in the moment with the sun on my face and I felt my calm return, and was able to accept my physical limitations as not somehow a failure, and was able to accept that I had done a good job on the radio interview, especially having literally just properly fallen like a tree chopped down in a forest, and I was able to accept that I am doing well, and that just because I am doing well, there isn’t some awful, terrible thing about to happen that will ruin everything. No one is about to die. Or they might be, but it’s not because I sounded nervous in a radio interview.

This is anxiety. This is the interior thought rollercoaster that someone with anxiety, especially social anxiety, has. It lasts for days, weeks sometimes and it’s exhausting. But I would not change me for the world. Finding ways to manage my brain is something that takes a lot of practice. I do wish sometimes I could have a quiet brain for a little while. Guess what, I can, as long as I am doing nothing but tending my roses. Not practical if I want to have a career and pay my mortgage, but certainly something to bear in mind.

I hope you’re having a lovely week. Thanks again for all the lovely comments about the Radio Four show, and to the people currently reading the proof of The Ghost Lake and letting me know how much you’re enjoying it, it means such a lot to me.

Until next time

x