I have written before dearest ones, about Thea’s own vulnerabilities….even here, on the semi isolation of the Island. Because although that is why I am here, to reset, re calibrate, at some point I need to re emerge. And re emerging is proving……tricksy. Two things have been necessities of the sanity saving kind in this endeavor( aside from the Penguins of course, whose ability to distract one is constant ). Firstly good and close friends( with a special shout out to The Godmother – at some point she is going to get very sick of my late night sobbing phonecalls about some perceived slight. Not only is she a special person, but she is my only friend who knows about this project, and is unfailingly and unflaggingly positive about it. The second is good books. And the universe has clearly heard my silent pleas, my kindle is swamped with authors whose names inspire…..McEwen, Carey, Palahnuik, Hart Hemmings, Smiley. The list is endless.

And they are proving to be life savers, every one a buoy in ruffled and troubled seas, because a rogue wave has arrived and swamped the dinghy, and bailing out with an empty Sardine tin doesn’t seem to be doing the trick.

That rogue wave, as it so often is, is grief. And the thing about grief, is that it is intensely personal and no persons experience of it is similar to anothers. Thea in her relatively short life has been forced into making a fairly comprehensive study of grief, and the upside to having survived those heartbreaking experiences is that I’m now pretty good at coping mechanisms, strategies. But here’s the rub. On the Island , I already employ most of them. I have my routines set and they are good and healthy. I exercise, eat well, volunteer some time and read, read, read. I have developed, as we all do, a better sense of who to ‘let in’ and who is unhealthy for us( MOST, Dear Maman et moi), or means harm. None of these things are helping at this particular moment, and that is reflected in my writing, and, I suppose, my thinking. So I went back to the start of TBB . The spark has gone a little. How to get it back?

I would welcome any suggestions my dear readers, but in the meantime, I have decided to set myself a challenge. I am going to produce two, that’s right two reviews every week. One will appear every Tuesday morning(as a  tribute to that great Mockers classic ’ FORVER TUESDAY MORNING’) and one on a Friday/ Saturday(….nothing is guaranteed to get rid of a handsome man in a darkened bar more effectively than mentioning you are going home to complete ‘a review.’ By the time he’s realised it’s not him you are planning to dissect, escape has been effected.)

Despite the season of glittering events, long frocks, wobbly heels and too much champagne having arrived these deadlines will be met, literature read, problems solved, and hope will have, hopefully, returned. Books lead us to whole new worlds, new ways of seeing, and new ways to be, and if we let them, they can save us.

Thea.

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3 thoughts on “Adrift: Thea feels swamped: Mayday!

  1. Wishing you many enlightenments to lighten your load as you journey in –as Emily Dickenson called books- “the frugal frigate”.

  2. What is helping in your grief? May I recommend Larkrise to Candleford (not Cider with Rosie as so often cited) and the library window by mrs oliphant – in fact most Victorian gothic short stories have been helpful to me, so much so that I am running out.

  3. Dearest Gertie, Thank you so much for taking a moment to make these suggestions. That alone means the world. I adore Lark Rise to Candleford( or did when I last read it eons ago) and so I will re read it….have you ever read Diane Setterfield’s The 13th Tale? It might be right up your Victorian Gothic Street!

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