Refreshed and revitalised. I spent last weekend at home. Home being back where I grew up. Over Mother’s Day as well, I am the very model of a perfect daughter.
It’s nice to get away, she says, a week after coming back from Barcelona. Getting out of the city, I mean. To be at one with nature. Zen.
One day last week I was feeling frustrated, short-tempered and teary. I’d been working from home all day and by late afternoon I knew I needed some air. I put my trousers on, had a cup of tea and I think about leaving the house. Then, I stopped thinking of relatable Blur lyrics and went outside. About 30 seconds in I could feel my jaw unclench and my shoulders loosen. Usually, you do just need a walk.
I thought a weekend back at home would do me good. Whenever I tend to go home now it’s usually with the intention of having a rest. But still, I pile on the pressure to be productive and end up with a to-list as long as my arm. Reading, writing, life admin, replying to messages, walks that last for hours, catching up with family… I completely Tom Cruise myself. Mission impossible.
When I was in Barcelona (I went on holiday to Barcelona if you didn’t know, I haven’t mentioned it much or written about it here and here) I decided to carry around a little notebook everywhere with me. Notes, thoughts and “drafts” fling themselves around my brain constantly. Usually, I write them somewhere on my phone. I romanticised the idea of carrying around a notebook. Kind of like a Golden Age literary scholar. Kind of like a detective cartoon character. After ticking off about 0.5 things on my to-do list on Sunday, I whipped it out.
When I come home, I can feel the determination, drive, focus and creativity evaporate from my body. I can’t really focus. I don’t think it’s because of the environment. There’s space to write, think and read. I love nature’s influence on my work too. My mind and body are elsewhere, on false pretences of rest, ready to unwind. The productivity hold I have over myself has no bounds. I yawn.
I intended to write this newsletter at home but didn’t. Of everything I’ve posted so far this one has been the most written-in-haste. Tweaked and scheduled just hours before my new regular 1pm Tuesday slot. Still, I made it. Couldn’t let the fans down. Rough round the edges and cutting it fine. Just how I like it.
On Saturday morning, my sister suggested we go for a swim. She’s been swimming a lot recently and said how great it is to be doing something away from everything. No technology, no phone, no distractions. Not even music, podcasts or an audiobook. Just you and the water. Apart from some incredibly delicious meals and indulging in being cooked for it was the highlight of my weekend. Exactly what I needed.
Gratitude is what I’ve tried to take back with me from the weekend. I’ve been signed up to
’s for ages. She’s a writer and wellness educator with a soft-centred approach to mindfulness being thankful for the things in your life. I bookmarked her Gratitude an open letter from a couple of weeks ago.“Something about those micro-moments makes me feel most held and healed. Those minuscule and even mundane things are what bring me back to the truth of my life.”
I decided to make a list myself of things I felt grateful for this weekend.
Home-cooked food. My mum and grandma are incredible cooks so going home is always a great food affair. The dogs. Especially the cuddles with two fluffy little balls of loving energy. Having cinema movie nights with my sister. Curling up in our pyjamas on the sofa with snacks utterly engrossed. Hearing birds. I’ve had a bit of an obsession with birds and I'm kind of glad to know what my ‘thing’ will be when I am extremely old. The fact home is in the countryside. Somewhere to go for long walks and be surrounded by green is such a luxury.
I returned to London on Sunday night with a clear head and a full belly. Ready for the week ahead with an intention of continuing to find the beauty and value in my everyday mundanity.
