At some point in your life you have to take a long hard look at yourself. That point for me is now. I am sorry if I am not making any sense but I am too busy trying to be so many different things that I am not being the one thing that I most need to be… ME.

No surprise there, I know that I am not the only one. I would ask you to leave a comment down below if you can feel me, if you get what I am saying, if you know where I am coming from but the truth is that if you know any of those things then you won’t leave a comment. You may nod your head knowingly but you will then scroll along with your life.

I get it. I can’t touch you. I don’t touch you because I don’t even touch myself. (I don’t mean in the biblical sense) I mean touch my heart, smell the air, the flowers, sniff the salt of the sea, none of it. I barely have time these days to walk my poor old dog, never mind spend any quality time with those around me, not even me.

As I do every year I set out to improve myself. Last year I did. I created a new business, I worked at a wages job earning a regular income while I stayed up late at night working on what I call our future finances. Last year I wrote a new book during NaNoWriMo, I published a new book and some other stuff..

I didn’t start eating properly, exercising regular, sticking to a regular yoga practise, using my aromatherapy oils daily, my crystals or my tarot and do not even get me started on my much attention I didn’t give at all to Reiki! Fuck all of that shit I am too busy!!! I have to make plans, work schedules, family schedules, cook and clean the house, care for the dogs, go to work, pay the bills, create, create, create. I have to prove myself, be the best at my game. I have to know everything. I have to read blogs, books, listen to podcasts and more books, take courses and watch everything. I am fifty two and I have fallen behind.

I don’t have time for counting calories, carbs, nutrients, exercises and reps, I no longer namaste, my soul does not soar, my feet are not grounded, I don’t feel supported my mother earth and father sky has long left the building. I cannot remember the last time I went to bed at the same time as my husband, well a time that we went to bed together when I wasn’t so tired that my lights were out the second my head hit the pillow.

Honestly I cannot think about my relationships with others right now. I don’t have the energy to heal the rifts that have come between me and those around me for no other reason other than my constant state of busyness. I have to give to me now. My cup, my bucket, myself is empty.

Don’t get me started on menopause, my older aunt is here now with a vengeance and sometimes I just want everyone to shut the fuck up.

My blog, in case you forgot the title, is Body Peace Writer. It is what I once strived to achieve. Before I was in a car accident, before my heart was broken and before the pandemic. I wanted to merge my life as an alternate therapist, yoga teacher and writer. I wanted to live one big happy namaste, eight limbed, rakeed up, crystal cleansing, essential oil lathered writer.

I was so sure that 2022 was going to be my year. You know to get my shit together. But I developed a hip issue, it has a fancy ‘itis’ word attached to it but I am pretty sure it is because I am overweight and sit on arse all day. I am a writer. What else am I going to do when I am not at my day job? I sit and snack while I work to keep myself awake. Then when it is finally time to sleep, I can’t. I take a pill, then it is hard to wake up- you know the cycle if you have read this far.

Currently I am on – hormone replacement therapy, anti-inflammatory, norgesics; analgesics; antihistamines; metformin and anti anxiety meds. Most of which started after the car accident. Most of which I suspect I wouldn’t need if I lived my true existence.

There is no perfect scenario where I am going to fix myself. I can’t runaway to a health farm or retreat in a cave in the mountains of Nepal. I have a life to live here, I have responsibilities here and work to get done away from my wages job. I have to find a way of integrating all that I want with all that I can do. There are only so many hours in a day and I have to use some of them for being a better friend to me.

Of course you and I both know that I would have never started writing this post if I had not already started on a plan. I have to squeeze some good shit into my everyday. I have found a healer, yoga teacher, mentor. I have had two sessions with her and a couple of weeks dotted with some decent crying times. The first week she sent me home with crystals, the next aromatherapy blends all designed to heal my heart and send the negativity away. Next week she is giving me an energy healing and I start weekly yoga classes with her on Wednesday. So its a start. It is a push in the right direction. I am not looking to push bad things out of my life, I am aiming to bring more of the good things in. I am searching for a balance I can live with.

I love a chai latte with a bar of white chocolate on the side, perfectly cooked salted potato chips in a buttery roll, chocolate at room temperature and cheese boards, and none of these things will be left behind any time soon.

Namaste beautiful writers, it all starts with the little things. Wish me luck!