It’s been a funny few months. I started the year blissfully happy, loved up and without a care in the world. Then it all became too real and I found myself overwhelmed, stretched thinly and wondering how I got here.
After the drought of unemployment, single life and isolation I was catapulted into a challenging role and moved into a new home in the garden of England with a fabulous man and his two children.
It all happened so quickly that I did not register my stress levels. I had a new routine, other people’s feelings to consider and the fear that I would fuck it up like I always do.
I said nothing and continued on. My body internalised the stress, silently welcoming the changes by becoming cystic and angry. Floored by the pain I had no choice but to take the month of March off to lay in bed. I resisted at first before giving in and realising that I often say that things are changing and now, from my bed with nothing to do but rest, I really could see my new life unfolding before my eyes.
Michelangelo is kind, loving, generous and thoughtful; he’s also gentle and slow. I am the same except I launch into everything, taking it all on headfirst before usually crashing and burning. ‘Slow down, slow down’ he tells me but I cannot, I don’t know how to.
From my bed I know what I want. I want to get better and return to work. I want to be brilliant; be a better girlfriend, look after the boys, improve my health, be happy everyday so I can go to yoga and return to ballet.
I get up one morning and I start to run, I’m running so fast I forget where I am going. I pack up all the baggage I want, leave the rest and set off. I leave Michelangelo behind. I just go. I run to get away from all the crap that is behind me.
Soon I am all alone and for a moment I panic. Perhaps I’ve made the wrong decision? Have I somehow run in the wrong direction? I keep going, getting more lost and confused the further I go … and then I see something.
I am running so fast I cannot make it out properly. I can feel the tears as I fear that I am mistaken, that I am running and about to crash and burn again. But no, it becomes crystal clear as I slow down, yes, as I start to slow I see Michelangelo standing there, ready to catch me; arms open wide.