Friday, 5 February 2016

Pause, or Stop



I'm taking a pause. Or perhaps a permanent stop. I haven't decided yet.

Last night, I changed my twitter and instagram handles. I realised I no longer really identified as a blogger, and certainly didn't identify with the The Cup and Saucer thing I had going on all over the internet. Though of course, that's what this space is still called because, quite frankly, I'm not sure I have the energy, inclination, or desire to try to do a thing where I change a name of a website online without losing followers because, to be honest, I'm not worried about whether anyone reads these words in the first place.

And I think that's the reason I really am stopping. Because I don't care if anyone reads the words I write here, I'm not writing here. I'm writing in notebooks or- good gracious- talking to friends about the things in my head instead.

I don't care about the latest lipstick colours, or freebies sent from brands looking to boost their ranking on Google's front page. In fact these days, I think I'm less likely to buy something if I suspect a blogger has been sent it for free. 

I've more or less stopped reading blogs, because I no longer find them interesting, for the most part. There are a (very) few- Charlotte's and Jenny's and Laura's and Meg's- that I read still. The former two because they're two of my absolute favourite people on the whole entire planet. And the latter two because they say the things I want to say in a way that's so great I find myself nodding along with every post. 

So yeah. This might be it. It might not be. But it probably will be.

So to those of you who have read along for a while- or who have just floundered by in your travels across the internet- thank you for sharing in a part of my life that has been, in a lot of ways, the making of me. 

But I think I need to just carry on and make myself now.

Thursday, 7 January 2016


I saw a friend on Sunday for a walk and a coffee. It was pouring with rain, and we went through five umbrellas in three hours. We caught up, swapped Christmas stories, sipped hot drinks, and she said to me "This is the first time since November that I feel like you're almost completely back to yourself again. It doesn't seem like you're just putting a brave face on. You seem okay again".

And I felt it. After two months, I felt back to myself. World-weary and walls rebuilt (taller than ever) but I felt okay. Strong, even. I was doing totally fine, and feeling great.

And then this morning, I caught a person's eye, and I felt myself fall apart all over again.

I'm going to do my damnedest not to. I've been too busy holding myself together with tape and glue for the last two months to let a passing glance undo me again. But for now, I can feel that hole at the bottom of my sternum reopening. The focus drifting. The memories sinking in. 

Allowing that to happen would be the easy option. 

But I'm not going to take the easy way out this time.