Stepping into the light again

It's been a while since I updated everyone and it’s not because I haven't had things to say. It's the opposite of that. I have had too much to say. There's been too much going on in the last year and honestly, the real question is where do I even start? What do I want to share?

During hubby's hospitalisations I spent a lot of time on social media updating loved ones and sharing our journey with the world. The support and love were incredible. We could not have gotten through that time without all of you who reached out and helped in every way you could.  It was a reminder that social media can be a force for good.

The mental cost though was high and as I went through my own cancer scare at the end of 2024, everything hit me at once. I found myself paralysed emotionally. I didn't want to share anymore because I was overexposed. I shut down and took a step back. I needed personal space to work out what was going on in my head. To work out what I wanted to and didn’t want to share.

I didn't want to share how scared I was. I didn't want to share that long term friendships I thought were solid had started to crumble. I didn't want to share that I was physically and emotionally exhausted by the events of 2022 onwards. I didn’t want to share that two of our best friends died within months of another and circumstances prevented us from attending their funerals. I didn’t want to share that I had a breakdown over the Christmas holidays and sought medical help which has resulted in me taking prescription anxiety pills on a daily basis. I didn't want to share that just when one thing settled down in our lives, another thing waited on the next corner ready to pounce.
I didn't want to be that person that is always sharing how tough their life was without acknowledging the positive things in their life. I also didn't want to be that person who swims in toxic positivity. I didn't know how to express any of this, so I expressed none of it.

By retreating though, I picked up my pen again.

I began writing from where I am now and not where I was. I no longer have an office nor an abundance of time to work at my own leisure. Life is different now and I needed to find new ways of working. Once I let go of the way I used to work, began finding new ways to put words on paper.
Things started to click.

I started to feel a confidence that I hadn’t experienced before, not an arrogance but an actual confidence that what I was producing was important to send out. That it was meant to be read because it needed to be written. The words were different and the pieces more experimental but the rush, oh man, the rush was like new life pulsating through me.

I also joined Dif, a creative community based in Bristol who are in the process of producing their first zine, of which I am one of the curators of. We have a great team and the submissions we have received have been inspiring. I have submitted pieces to theatre groups and queer journals in the US, funnelling much of my feelings about the current state of the world into writing rather than social media rants.

One of my stories has been shortlisted for The 2025 Curae Prize and will appear in the anthology to be published later this year. It's an incredible honour as it is a prize set up for unpaid carers like myself. They understand the responsibilities of caring for a loved one and the artistic weight we carry on top of that. The short story is a piece that I remain proud of and one that I can't wait for others to read.

I feel like I am riding a new wave in the evolution of myself as a person and artist. It’s exciting, nerve wracking but I am grateful. I am so grateful to be where I am today. I am grateful for the words, grateful for all of you and most of all, I am grateful for my hubby who continues to support me on this creative journey, even with everything thrown at us.

I'll leave you with this photo he took of us celebrating my shortlisted story at our local village pub, The Oakhill Inn. We moved here in 2023 and are only now getting a chance to explore our surroundings. Things aren't perfect but the pieces are moving in the right direction.

​We're living and that feels good.
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