When I first moved to the town I now live in, the estate agent told me “this place is basically just two big hills” and I thought of it as a pair of breasts I was living on.
I imagined myself walking around here, and saw myself in clothes I couldn’t then afford, with an attitude I didn’t then have, and I thought “No, this isn’t for me at all.” It was too difficult.
I had spent the year previous to it at my mum’s house, in what I thought of as recovery. Recovery from trauma and shock which had been a natural and understandable response to what had happened before that. It was a pretty weird year, with no story arc, no great ending. My years begin and end in autumn.
I wrote this dumb thing in a Moleskine once, I don’t remember it exactly. Something like, “When the winds come, in the autumn, all the leaves and all the things are lifted, and move with the wind for a while. It’s only in the winter that they’ll settle again, only, somewhere different this time.”
And basically this was just a bad metaphor for what I’m trying to say now, which is that, although I like new year celebrations at the end of December, I have little new years parties in my body all through September and October. I see the leaves change and I feel revived and better.
All the change comes with the autumn. For 21.5 hours a week, I make pizzas for people. That’s new. I was just in therapy an hour or so ago, we talked about how I don’t know who I am or how I feel, and about the politeness that stops people from ever knowing me. I could feel my therapist, thirsty for me to be unpleasant, to break the spell on me that stops me from saying anything impolite. So we talked about that, too. She told me so. “You’re human, thank God!”
Now is time for me to practice accepting myself, warts and all. I don’t have any warts. I have a callous on my hand, though. Accepting myself, like I just needed to be told “Oh, Rosie, love, could you accept yourself this week?” and that’s all that had been missing.
So yeah, I’ve lived in this town for a year now, and I have this attitude I didn’t used to have and these clothes on that make me feel like myself. This year’s autumnal celebrations include me writing assignments for school, me seeing a therapist who’s genuinely great for me, and me making people pizza for 21.5 hours a week.
I’ll light a candle and gather some conkers.
jacobvanloon
blakekathryn
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theartofmadeline
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