This week an email dropped into my inbox, informing me of my start time for the London to Brighton bike ride. It was only then I remembered, with some horror, that on a complete whim, at the nadir of my depression I signed up to do such a mad thing.
It’s now just over a month away, and I have put in exactly no proper training for it. I’m staring at the 16 week training plan they sent along, and wondering how I can cram it all in in just 5 weeks. Flashbacks of A Level revision abound. So if anyone fancies a weekend ride – you know where I am!
To be honest, it hasn’t been a good week.
My compulsive shopping and hankering after stupid material shit is out of control. In one afternoon, I managed to splurge £1200 on my credit card (pretty much all of which will be sent back because I obviously can’t afford it) and then I was so exhausted I had to clock out for a mid-afternoon nap. A proper black out binge if there ever was one. If my addiction of choice was alcohol and not shopping, I would have woken up in on a park bench in Ealing or something, with only half my clothes and no phone. There but for the grace of God go I.
Work’s been… unproductive. I’ll be sitting at my desk and I’ll suddenly realise I have spent an hour just scrolling on Instagram. I won’t remember what I’ve seen or done on it, or even remember why I opened the app in the first place – compulsion probably after a minor hitch on the thing I’m working on?
Something is going on and I’m not entirely sure what it is. I’m not depressed or low, thankfully, but I am… what’s the best way to put it? Escaping? I’m trying to be curious about it, and considering meditation as something that might help – any meditation folk know where to start with it? Pointers very welcome.
I think Instagram is particularly exploitative of my weaknesses, so after posting this blog I’m going to delete the app for the next week and see if that makes a difference.
My 19th August deadline for this play fast approaches, and already other things are starting to creep in – a couple of TV zooms, a TV pitch that’s due, a redraft of a treatment, a workshop I agreed to run. I can feel the pressure mounting and perhaps that’s why I’m escaping? Or maybe the other things are creeping in because actually when it’s just me and the blank pages of a play, that’s the scariest place to be, and I’m looking for anything, anyone else to distract me, and make me feel less alone with it. Like when you’re stuck in the most awkwardly painful one-on-one at a party and you’re like, please god send someone, anyone to end this torture.
I did have a lovely coffee with a fellow writer and it was one of those amazing chats where you talk about the work itself and not the industry, and that felt really galvanising. She told me that Bernardine Evaristo talks about how it baffles her when writers talk about allowing themselves to show up and write rubbish. Bernardine’s attitude is like, why would I do that? She shows up and affirms that she is going to write something awesome today. I’m no Bernardine obvs, but I am going to try and channel some of that energy! I’ve been recommended her Manifesto: On Never Giving Up, which I’ve downloaded on my Kindle already. I absolutely adore books by writers about writing, so any other suggestions super welcome!
Much love
Iman xxx
PS. I was away last weekend, so I didn’t get round to sharing the blog which I did duly write and post! But here is a link to it in case you missed it.
PPS. WhatsApp me if you want to say hi! I’m going off insta for a bit and don’t know when I’ll be back.