Silk purse, sow’s ear

My relationship with this current blog post can only be described as somewhat strained.   I wasn’t getting anything out of it, and it didn’t understand what I needed.  I had even threatened to leave it  on more than one occasion but it fell on deaf ears.

There I was, declaring my intention to ‘just keep writing’, as if it was that easy, as if it required so little effort on my part. In the past 3 weeks my blank screen has been staring back at me because I haven’t yet written a single word, wise or otherwise.  I tried all sorts to get the creative juices flowing; read ‘top tips’ on the internet and downloaded checklists.  I drew mind maps, I brainstormed.  I had a temper tantrum (or 2).


Fellow bloggers were posting time and time again.

Why didn’t I have anything to say?

I have been doing some work on myself over the last 6 weeks, learning how to become a better person (because that’s what I thought I should do).  I’ve read about being more spiritual, learning to forgive,  to meditate and ‘vibrate at a higher energy’ to allow better things into my life.

This was not particularly an intention of mine, rather more a series of enticing links on the net when I was searching for something completely different.

Although some could say, I was meant to find it.

It has been interesting.  I have learned a great deal.  The mind is a powerful tool and definitely has an impact on life, whether you choose to believe it or not. My negative thoughts have affected my life for as long as I can remember, so why shouldn’t it follow that positive thoughts could bring about a different outcome and a more fulfilled and peaceful life?

It has, though, been somewhat of a double-edged sword.   Reading such incredible stories of people’s personal accomplishments did not spur me on or leave me inspired.  Quite the opposite. I felt deflated. People in their 20’s and 30’s were out in the world, making a difference and I was struggling to get this blog finished. Was there really point in trying, especially at my age?

Then my Granddaughter came to visit.

Now 6 months old, she is sitting up and grabbing hold of everything. She is also crawling backwards, has a big tuft of hair on the top of her head and her favourite toy is a plastic spoon.

The spoon is never far away

She is learning every single second, whether it is how to tug really hard on my hair or stick her fingers up my nose! She is fascinated by everything and doesn’t sit still for a minute.  Her tiny fingers are so inquisitive and she is able to pick up and examine everything with such scrutiny. I showered her with kisses, tickled her tummy and sang her the Wheels on the Bus while she laughed her head off.

How did this help my writing?

My Granddaughter doesn’t care what job I do, or how successful I am (right now). She needs me to play with her, to help her learn, read her stories and buy her lots and lots of tutus. I had forgotten how magical the first 12 months of life can be. The time  has gone by so fast. It seems like mere seconds ago that she was a tiny bundle in my arms and now its all I can do to keep hold of her.  All too soon it will be Summer and she will be toddling around the garden.  It just doesn’t seem possible.  I was feeling inadequate because I thought being a Grandma meant I had to be successful and accomplished.  A proper grown up.

I had forgotten what was important.

So, no, I still haven’t written the book, but that’s ok.  I don’t have to be perfect, just the best version of me that I can manage right now. I will always be untidy (sorry, Michael) and emotional and opinionated, but that’s ok too.  I will always struggle to hold my tongue and not have a temper tantrum when things don’t go my way.  Because despite all of the changes I am making in my life I am still me and I don’t know how to be anyone else, nor would I want to be.

You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear…..

glorious mess













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