OWNING OUR OWN STORIES
The rain is back– and strangely enough, I've missed it. For the past three weekends, the snow has graced Glasgow with its unabashed and overbearing presence. It’s been good. Freezing. But, oddly enough, for me, kind of depressing.
This past week seems surrounded by loneliness, and a deep longing for the life I curated a few months ago. I was overcome with extreme nostalgia, missing the protagonists in my summer narrative, the coffee shop where I had found a second home, and the memories I had created when the sun made an appearance. It’s strange– I miss it just as much, if not more than the quintessential glory days of the past few years. This most recent phase of my life has undoubtedly been the most difficult to let go of.
Maybe this is the real almost leaving school wake-up call. I'm not doing as much course wise and so, with no articles to come home and read, not as many essays to stay up all night on, no unending to-do lists to hog the corners of my mind reserved for hobbies and personal interests and free time; I feel myself almost start to dread the weekends, because what am I supposed to do with all that free time? And by myself?
By myself– a state of being which I formerly carried out expertly, but which of late has become increasingly difficult and heavy. I used to be so good at being by myself!
And so, these past three weeks have taught me that I need to restore this skill of marvelling in alone time. I've been racking my brain on how to begin to tread the waters of having fun my myself, of re-learning to enjoy my own company. For some reason, these rainy days have inspired me. No doubt, finally having a computer that doesn't overheat after 25 minutes has opened up numerous opportunities for this (I am embarrassed to admit how reliant I have become on technology). But I feel motivated to take part in some of the activities I used to love doing alone– taking the time to carefully select the perfect words in a silly blog post, mindlessly perusing the endless feed of Tumblr texts and photographs, discovering new music that will become the soundtracks of particular periods in my life. I might even bake, if I ever decide to remove my lazy bum from the twinkle-ridden cosiness that is currently my room.
I spent last weekend with my darling auntie and with her I visit my dad's cousins and family. We meet people in supermarkets and in church and catch each other up on all our news. It feels like forever since I last saw her, and I've missed her company terribly. I spend more time with my little cousin of sorts, the three year old pirate who recounts all his adventures and tells me stories about knights who sing his favourite songs -about santa and a tiger being stuck up the chimney- and builds his own chimney to get stuck in out of pillows. I find him hilarious. My aunt and I go into town to take photos for my project and we walk around exploring for ages, but the lens is funny and none of them really work out that well.
I'm banning myself from sugary things and trying to be healthy again. I've spent the past week with the sniffles and spluttering and coughing like a mad woman. I've not been this sick in a long time, and I'm determined to get rid of it more naturally than normal. I worry about all the pills and medicines I've been taking lately, and I want to make a change.
A poet comes to visit us in English class and some of the things she says hit home for me and this blog. I'm not sure if I completely agree with her on all points but I am forced to think either way. She asks us what right we have to write about the topics we're writing about and sometimes I ask that same question of myself. I write because I want to form a portrait of my youth. These days I've lived will all just be stories one day and I want to preserve my thoughts in a space that I can always go back too. I want to own my story. I hope you do too.
We have every right to write about our lives - they are ours! These are our moments, our memories, our heartbreaks and successes. This is our time. These are our stories, and if we don't tell them, then who will? Others might find them inspiring, but no-one sees life in the same way you or I do. Your perspective, your heart, your thoughts and feelings, that is what gives you the right. The fact that so many around the world don't yet have this freedom we have, gives us the right.
Own your story.