Don't you forget about me
Something new is coming for you
For the first time in years, January flew right past my eyes in a flash. My focus in January was firm. Find a job. I’ve prepped and fretted over an average of 5 interviews and calls every single week. By the time this is published, I’ll also have completely packed up and moved house. Twice in fact. If we include the 9-day stint spent living minimally out of a suitcase in an Airbnb because our flat wasn’t quite ready to move into. Writing has barely had a look in at all. I feel incredibly guilty.
Over the past year, I was in such a flow. I created and updated a Google Sheets tracker for every post, with details of sends and open rates. It feels a lifetime away that I was once able to post twice a week. I was up to date with all the wonderful Substack newsletters I subscribe to, banking little pockets of inspiration for my own work. My inbox now sits at around 200 unread emails. I cannot bear to mark them as read but I haven’t been able to carve out dedicated time to read them… yet.
The feeling of guilt now has been less about the lack of writing itself, but more towards anything not job hunting or moving house related. If I have the time to write surely I should be pouring that into other more pressing things, right? But where does that leave me? It’s dangerous (a little extreme perhaps but I stand by it) to abandon the things that bring you joy. Things that can seemingly be dismissed when your focus moves to more practical tasks. I find it hard to strike a balance and concentrate on hobbies or passions without berating myself in the process. Harrumph.
I haven’t stripped it back entirely. It’s not all work and no play. In January I had two of my very best swims since records began. If Team GB needs anyone else for the Paris Olympics this summer I’ll be waiting in the wings. Swimming has remained constant for over 9 months now, I don’t think I’ve spent more than a week without getting in the water. It’s my respite, my happy place where I can whisk myself away for 30 minutes of mindfulness to detach, derailing my whirring brain.
It’s frustrating for me that 3 months on, I continue to provide you with dribs and drabs. I refuse to give up. Especially as I’m very glad my sacrifices have somewhat paid off - I’ve found a new job! I’m looking forward to getting back into a better form of routine. I’ve definitely been craving the structure day-to-day that a job provides me with. I’m excited for newness and for opportunities. And to (fingers crossed) fall back into the magical emerald pools of my writing once again.
New Birch Leaf
by Sarah Chansakar
One
New leaf
On my birch
A fresh start of
Hope