what’s really down there?

grayscale photo of woman
Photo by Oliver Sjöström on Pexels.com

What’s underneath, in the deep and the dark,

The water so murky that anything could

Be lurking in wait to grab at your wrists,

Your ankles, pulling you down to your death.

Those long muscly tentacles reach out for you

When you least expect fighting for valuable air,

That’s when that sea monster will swim after you.

I find it absolutely crazy that some people are scared of water, or they can’t ride a bike or if they don’t read books. These are all things I like and so they have always come naturally to me.

Swimming is one of those things that puts the fear of God into some people; that fear of having a expanse of water below you is very real. And then if you throw in the fact that you can’t see down in the sea, I can understand why people are afraid.

I, on the other hand, see swimming as a bit like flying; it’s so freeing. I feel like I’m immune to those sea monster fears that plague other people.

I do wonder if life would be different if I had that fear and what fears do hold me back. I’ve been lucky enough to swim across the English Channel and it is my proudest achievement, but if I was scared of what’s below I wouldn’t have even left the beach.

I must have loads of fears that have kept me on my metaphorical beach, and I suppose we all have them. I’m going to try and start dipping my toe in a bit more regularly this year. Make sure you don’t get stranded on the beach worrying about a sea monster that doesn’t even exist.

Yours Swimmingly,

Rachel xx

next year i’ll be one of those girls

women performing yoga on green grass near trees
Photo by Rui Dias on Pexels.com

Next year I’ll put on makeup every day

And brush my hair and straighten it.

I’ll make my food on Sunday night

And freeze in Tupperware

And while that cakes are busy baking

I’ll make my jewelry and greetings card,

The ones I’ll sell to the PTA

While drinking smoothies made of kale.

I’ll make a bullet journal, a mood board,

A fucking five year plan, heck make it ten.

Next year I’ll be better than I was,

I’ll be like Jen from number eight,

Who power walks twice a day

And never eats a solid food.

Next year I’ll be better than I was,

I’ll aim for such a dizzying height,

I’ll put up a valiant fight.

I watch all these women on YouTube and they have an amazing career, they make sure they’re organised by creating a bullet journal, they can paint and draw, run marathons and they have five kids that are all turned out immaculately. Meanwhile, I’m over here eating raw brussel sprouts from the bag as I lie on the sofa in leggings that have several holes in them.

I know that people do curate the best bits of their lives to put on social media, but still. These women really do seem to have their shit together.

I also know that I may put some makeup on for the first week of January, but by February I won’t even be brushing my hair. I wish I was one of those women with glossy hair and always wearing heels but I just can’t do it.

When I was seeing a therapist, we used to refer to these women as the Lordsfield Gardens women because this was the name of the street where all the posh mums lived. They had rich husbands and they ran Etsy stores while the kids were at school. Or they were at Pilates all morning, followed by a latte and a panini that cost more than my weekly shop.

I always longed to be a Lordsfield Gardens woman because I thought that they had no worries. But the more I grow and find my own place in the world, the more I realise that living in a crappy flat in a rough part of town is OK.

I bought the flat with my own money, I’ve made it my own home. I’m free to pack up whenever I want and go wherever I want. I’ve had some cool adventures over the years and that’s far more exciting than Pilates at Virgin Active.

Much Love

Rachel xx

P.S. I would still quite like to have a go at making a bullet journal, just to be clear….