Just Let Me Be Eaten Up by Ivy and Wild Things

The tale of an un-posted letter and a bone contusion.

Dearest friend,

I wrote to you a while back, but didn’t post the letter. It felt a bit on the grim side and I don’t want this to be a place of burden. But then I also felt like we should just share things, normalise the grey days. I don’t think I know anyone that doesn’t have them, and maybe they’re not really for sharing, but also, maybe they are?

In truth I was going to pick out the elements of hope and concentrate on those in an edited version, I was going to do that after a walk in the woods, because the woods always make everything better. Until they make it a whole lot worse. Muddy woods are a menace of the worst kind my friends.

I fell down walking down an embankment. Pride slightly damaged but mostly OK. Then I fell again. I twisted and hit my arm on a rock, smashed my knees against one too (that’s the trouble with old quarries - so rocky). Another fall. This time there was a sound in my neck that sounded rather more crunchy than a neck ever should. At this point I stayed on the floor and cried. I have a strong feeling that damage to my neck has been a lot to do with my PCS symptoms and didn’t want that to be made worse. I would still be in those woods now if I had my way at that moment in time. I didn’t want to move. It all felt like a rather personal attack on me. It’s not, I know, and to think so is silly, but I would have stayed on that mucky forest floor and been eaten up by ivy and wild things if I could.

To cut a long story short there’s a bone contusion thing going on with my arm and it’s been a pretty miserable, pain splattered, tiring couple of weeks.

Sometimes we just need a sign to get things back on track, make it all the beginning of OK. Today when I was walking (as I do everyday and have done since January 1st - but that’s another story entirely) such a sign did indeed appear…

Wild.

Yes, it all is rather.

Those four simple letters served up the idea of wild instead of wilful. Organic instead of organised. The idea that when things “don’t go to plan” it isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Or maybe it’s just some other plan you aren’t aware of yet. I definitely need to be more embracing of this wild life that seems to seek me out at every turn.

And so, below, the letter that I didn’t send to follow this rather long explanation of it that was meant to just be a short snippet…

Dearest friend,

It feels like it’s been a while. I should have issued a “missing persons” sign on myself for I can’t deny I have been lost. At sea, adrift with no map and the night sky guidance system put out. Every last star abandoned me, especially the north one.

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and been unable to make sense of what’s staring back at you? I don’t make a habit of mirror gazing (but wish I appreciated that teen and twenty-something bathroom mirror portrait more at the time) but today I found myself faced with a Picasso version of myself. Right side alert and open, left side older but most certainly not wiser. I try not to be self conscious about the days where the left side of my face slumps and refuses to respond (an odd side-effect of the head bump and PCS), instead, I find myself curious.

Will I be this way forever? Do other people notice and if they do, what story do they think lead to it? What’s going on inside my head to make it so? I don’t really need the answers, as long as it isn’t serious and the brain scan would have picked up any major problems, I’m sure.

I have wandered off track, as is often the way these days. And there’s now a fog meaning I can’t see the original path. I do wish my mind was inhabited only by blue skies.

How are you? Has the winter been kind? Today is a blowing-a-sheet-of-water-at-your-face kind of a day which has given me cause to sit in a cosy warm kitchen writing this to you. The days are getting brighter - longer daylight hours always feel like the most welcome of gifts.

This year I am trying very hard not to Sow All Of The Seeds by the end of February (even with its extra day this year), only to have them turn to gangly wilted things by mid-April with still no sign of being able to plant them out. I always get too excited by those daily incremental increases in sunshine (or at least light) and go berserk planting everything in hope and expectation of warmer days following swiftly. I have learnt my lesson.

Expect at least three false Springs before the real deal in around May for two weeks before then directly barrelling headfirst into Summer.

So far just tomatoes and peppers planted, I’m learning. More sun doesn’t mean it’s warm enough for things to flourish. I’m sure there’s a life metaphor in there somewhere.

In other news - I’ve started to embroider. I use that term loosely as it’s more like mark making on fabric, but the curiosity of doing something new is a daily driver to make and do. I have found that I thrive down rabbit holes - if there is a place of passion bordering on obsession, of finding something new and adventurous, that is where I am happiest it seems. Do you find you are similarly sparked by new things? How long can you make it last? Is there a way of retaining that spark? As someone who just celebrated 18 years of marriage, I feel like I should probably have that answer.

I made a mix tape for you. I wanted to make a Valentine’s themed one, or an anti-Valentine’s day, I couldn’t decide and then the pressure of it all became quite crushing - executive dysfunction kicked in and I’ve been staring loathingly for weeks at my iPad with a mix of sorrow that I let it get the better of me and disdain for myself at not keeping up with these things. Until today when I decided that rather than let shame bury me for years I would just put together all the things I like and want to share with you. No theme, no pressure, just joy. I’m starting to learn that as humans we are very good at doing torturous things to punish ourselves and not very good at letting go with wild abandon and letting joy flood our days. And so, more of the latter. And I challenge you to the same.

Let me know, dear friend, what joyous things you make more important in your days.

With love,

V.V

Still with me? I love writing letters, but even more I love getting them back. Tell me about your wild life or how you might bring more joy to your days. It’s not quite a letter back, but I’d love it all the same.

If you know someone who would enjoy this post, please do pass it on.