Blog Post #7

We all get stuck sometimes. A blog about writing. A blog about mental health (sort of).   If there was a race, the 100m, in which I was competing then I’d be disappointed if I didn’t run it in under 13 seconds. The world record is 9.58 seconds. I haven’t ran a competitive sprint race for 20 years, yet I’d still want to get sub 13 seconds (FYI, my PB was 12.1 seconds back in the day). If I’m cooking, I can’t just throw some stuff together, it’s got to be Michelin standard. If I’m painting a wall, it’s got to be immaculate else it’s just shite in my eyes. When I write anything all I can see are the mistakes or the ways in which it could be improved. I can barely finish a single line without re-writing it. It’s the same when I’m at work; everything has to be immaculate otherwise (in my head) it’s a mess. This makes finishing things difficult, because more often than not I’ve set ludicrous targets/standards in my head. My perception of what is ‘good enough’ is probably three-times higher than that of the ‘normal’ person. If I can’t get it absolutely perfect then I start to wonder exactly what the…

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Blog Entry #6

We’ll always be together. A blog about writing. A blog about mental health (sort of).   I’m very sorry that I haven’t posted for AGES!!! It’s been a shitty couple of weeks and I’ve had to take a step back and concentrate on my mental health. The first couple of weeks I was starting to fall into a bit of a dip, mentally, as my anxiety was building up which in turn meant my writing too a bit of a hit. I’d lost all inspiration but also I really struggle to concentrate when I’m like that, which is usually an early warning sign that I’m maybe on a downward spiral. As I felt that I might be ‘turning a corner’ I received a phone call that I had known for a while would come at some point but it still broke my heart. My Gran, in her early 90s, passed away after her health took a quick sharp downward turn. This came not much more than 18 months after her husband, my Grandad, also passed away. The previous day we’d been told that she wasn’t well and to prepare to say goodbye, but even when the next phone call arrived (from my Mum) it still shattered me. It’s…

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