Oh the hideous irony. It’s been years since I’ve written anything – for a number of purely logistical reasons, rearranging the furniture of my life, moving house, being divorced, blah blah blah. Then 2020 happened. Lockdown. Gardening happened, which was WONDERFUL. Then another lockdown. Then, just before the Christmas lockdown, I trapped a nerve in my hip. AGONY. And I couldn’t go anywhere, or do much of anything, for weeks. Hell. Amitriptyline has been an absolute godsend.
And in the meantime, I have felt my voice, my will to speak, slipping away. I barely say a word these days – except to my daughter. But she’s busy with her world online, both school and social. I talk to no one, not even myself – and I was always, before, one of those suspicious people forever chattering away whilst pottering along, alone. Except then I didn’t feel particularly lonely, because I wasn’t alone; I wasn’t exactly talking to myself, but rather to my idea of a particular person – any person at all. The idea of going back to work, of being with other people, talking, the idea of another person actually listening to what I might say, is at once electrifying, and horrifying. I’ve forgotten how to do it (apparently I’ve forgotten how to write too, can you tell?!). How DO you make conversation? Is it like knitting? (Oh god, I thought I’d have a go at learning to knit so as to actually make something useful – I can already cast on, and do various stitches – and I bought this marvellous book, but when I went looking for my needles – I was given lots by my grandmother a million years ago – I found only three, and none of them the same size. My house eats things, I swear. It’s eaten my yoga kit, and god knows what else I haven’t yet thought to go looking for.) Maybe it is like knitting, with mismatched needles and an illegible pattern that neither of you can quite make sense of. I’m simply not equipped. I’m out of practise. I’m rubbish.
But wait, it gets worse. Today I literally lost my actual voice. That’s right. I have a sore throat, one side feels closed, and it hurts to swallow. Ugh.
I give up. I’m going back to bed. Tomorrow is another day. Whichever day it is.