Becoming, Lucy

recent posts

about

  • Going Through The Motions

    Need to write. Should write. No idea what to write.

    The truth is, I’m feeling disconnected from myself. I feel as though I’m watching my life, rather than live it at the moment. I’m just going through the motions.

    It’s such an odd feeling. I didn’t notice it until earlier – I lit a candle, watched the rain against the window (yes, I live life like I’m the main character, obviously) and sipped on my tea. In that moment, I realised how much I haven’t been present at all this week, just getting through each day.

    It’s funny because I told a friend I was doing okay. The first few days of grief hit me hard and then somehow I just kind of… forgot. Maybe forgot isn’t the right word as I would still have moments where it would hit me he’s really gone during the day but I just kind of avoided it.

    I don’t think I allow myself to think about it until I have to – which is usually at the funeral. But no funeral this time, as that wasn’t their wish and I’m not quite sure how to process it.

    I’m really not sure where I’m going with this. I wanted to write, I have wrote something half finished once again. No resolution – just simply recognising I’m not feeling up to it.

  • Till The Sweat Turns To Blood

    Inspired by Sleep Token’s ‘Say That You Will’, I wanted to explore what it means to love someone so deeply that it bleeds you dry, literally and emotionally. I gave myself a challenge, to write without dialogue. And this is the result…

    Embers scatter in the air between us as I watch Arni’s expression closely.

    I know I’m treading a thin line, but I need to be close to her tonight – even if it is the last thing she wants.

    Saying the fire would alert those who were hunting us was a poor excuse, but I couldn’t go another night without feeling the curve of her body against mine, or without inhaling her vanilla scent she still seems to have even after days on the run in this godforsaken forest.

    I watch her expression remain unreadable – the same expression I’ve been met with ever since she learned the truth about how we ended up in this mess.

    My chest aches.

    If only she knew the whole truth.

    My eyes flick briefly to the dying fire, listening as the last of the wood cracks and pops under the heat before lifting my gaze again.

    There. Was that a glint in her eye? A glimmer of something more?

    I watch her head move, almost imperceptibly – a small nod of acceptance.

    I’ll take it. God, I’ll take any form of communication at this point. The silence has been killing me; I almost think it just might, if the forest doesn’t kill me first.

    The forest floor offers little comfort as we nestle beside one another.

    The fire now out completely – but her body, her blonde locks sprawled against the dark brown surface, bring me warmth that only she has ever made me feel.

    The sounds of her soft breaths are the only thing I hear as we lay beside one another.

    I find myself wanting to bring my face close to hers, just so I can hear every breath, feel every breath. But I don’t.

    I wish she would say something.
    Anything.

    In the dark she feels like mine – like it’s just me and her, no one else.

    We were trained to kill, to fight, to defend – but this feeling, this impulse to love, is overwhelming.

    They’re entangled.

    I wish she’d say something.
    This silence has got me in a frenzy.

    My chest aches.

    Wait.

    I’m sweating.
    My chest feels wet.

    Wait.

    I’m bleeding.

    Oh…

    Love.

  • Ordinary

    Hi Me,

    Today was boring.

    You know I keep wanting to say my life is boring but it isn’t – it’s ordinary. I say boring because it’s not filled with loads of activities, news or gossip like you see all these influencers on TikTok or YouTube or on all the other countless social platforms. I have to remind myself that social media isn’t real, it’s mainly performance and ‘Day In The Life’ videos are usually filmed when people actually do stuff that’s worth videoing.

    So today was ordinary. School run, work from home and a coffee shop (mainly people watching) then school run followed by tea (it’s tea, not dinner), a kitchen dance party, boys bedtime, then a workout. Now I’m here, writing again. I don’t really have much to say but I know if I just let myself write then I’ll end up spiralling into a topic I want to discuss somehow.

    Some things I’m enjoying at the moment:

    • Working out/exercising consistently
    • Music
    • Crunchy autumn leaves
    • Writing

    I’m not spiralling, oh dear. Maybe I can only write on rest days when the endorphins aren’t keeping me happy as Larry. Oh, never mind. Blood Sport by Sleep Token has just come on shuffle so that should do it.

    Actually, that has just reminded me of something that happened today.

    While I was working, I had this rush of emotion that was overwhelming and intense. It made me uncomfortable, especially when I wasn’t sure why it had happened mid-task, when I was distracted. I couldn’t name it at first, I wasn’t sure why or what I was feeling. But then it all clicked into place – LIFEBLOOD by VOILA had just played.

    I was filled with this need to be loved and to give love.

    It came like a heaviness at first over my whole body, especially in my chest; not in a suffocating way, but just as though there was a lot I was holding inside wanting to be released. My body felt fuzzy, my hands craved connection. Things felt warm and heavy all at once.

    My body took the small pause, the second between tasks, as a moment to speak and I let it – I listened to what it was asking for, longing for. My body craves to be there for someone, to love someone, to nurture them whilst also being seen and held with the mutual compassion.

    But in this moment of reflection I realised I can only receive that if I can give that to myself – I need to be able to show myself softness and love like that. I need to be able to give myself permission to receive love like that.

    Not quite sure how to end this one now. I wish I had a list of things that I’m going to start doing to show myself tenderness and softness like that, but I don’t – I’m just going to figure it out as I go, one step at a time.

    I don’t need to be perfect, I just need to be present.

    Yours,
    Still Becoming

  • Hi, Me.

    I have been unsure on how to continue writing when I hit a slump because the truth is, I still have too many thoughts that need to come out but I’m just unsure on how to verbalise them or no one to discuss them with… Which makes me sound lonely as fuck but I promise I’m not, I’m just not sure my friends and family want to hear about my every thought when they have their own stuff.

    I was thinking I should write letters to my future self but I feel like that restricts me a little and I know I would face mental blocks with doing that. I’d end up addressing myself too much and probably spiral thinking about how future me might not have her shit together like I hope she would. I do still think I am going to treat these as letters to my future self but almost as a conversation like she is here with me, on the page, something that keeps me talking… An unfiltered conversation between me, myself and I.

    One day I will be able to read these and think “god, I was dramatic” or “do I ever shut up?” – which will be nice to look back and reflect. This will sort of be like a time capsule of my life, my thoughts, my emotions.

    So…. Hi me. (Gosh, that’s awkward.) We’re currently listening to Church by Henry Verus on repeat, do you like it? Make sure you really listen to the lyrics, its not really about God and religion – I mean it is on a level but not really.

    Do I really want to get into a religion conversation with you? I wonder if you feel the same? I didn’t come from a religious family, I went to a school that prayed everyday but they didn’t overly push religion onto you. I always said I don’t believe in a God but the funny thing is, I have found myself praying before and hoping on a higher power. Was it just for hope? Do you pray much?

    I have prayed for many things; for friends or family to get better when they were really ill or whenever a situation looked dire but also for selfish reasons I’m sure. When the demons were at their worst, I remember pleading with the sky, hoping something or someone could help me. Maybe I only believe when I’m in desperate search of hope… Maybe writing is my way of talking to something bigger?

    Not quite sure why I brought the conversation to religion when I could’ve discussed music instead… I’m still learning how to speak to you truthfully, how to really just let myself be free with you. I had a moment yesterday when I realised I think way too logically even when I’m alone and don’t need to ‘perform’ for anyone.

    I found myself having an emotion, then thought, then emotion, then thought like some sort of looped code – I caught myself and obviously asked myself why on earth am I thinking like that? In the next breath, I realised when I write, I’m completely free – the thoughts, the words, the emotions just fall out of me how clothes fall out when you open a tumble dryer mid spin.

    After this revelation, I wasn’t fully sure what to do with that information so I’ve sat with it today, allowed myself moments to ponder it between work, feeding my boys and just ordinary life stuff. I think I need to let her out more; the one that free thinks, that flow. To do that, I need to practice which is going to be uncomfortable, I know. I’m going to try speaking as her out loud more, start off small and speak my daydreams or describe my mundane tasks as if I’m writing, even just for a minute at a time.

    I think I’ve always been her but I’ve suppressed her for so long that it feels foreign. Still, I’m tired of these masks, I’m ready to be free, to become.

  • Continuing Isn’t Betrayal

    I’m not sure what to write about today… I wanted to do a journal entry or focus on a topic. And I did – I wrote about being grown up/mature for your age but it just feels… Wrong.

    It feels wrong just to continue life when someone else’s stopped so suddenly. I know if I live like that, then that isn’t living and I’m sure someone will give me some bullshit about how the person that passed would want me to continue my life, which is great, but not helpful at all. Why should I get to continue my life when theirs ended so abruptly, without warning? When they could have had another 20/30 years easily?

    All my problems feel so small and so pointless. It’s such a weird feeling because my problems don’t disappear just because they feel smaller. I guess this is part of becoming though, going through these lessons, these seasons. My problems may feel smaller but they’re still part of me and my journey into becoming the person I want to be. I want to be able to live my life – so when I do die, myself and others can say I lived my life the way I wanted to live it, that I had a full life.

    I suppose I need to figure out what that looks like for me, what makes my life ‘full’. And now I’m stumped. I don’t know what that could look like for me.

    • I want to say ‘yes’ more – Go to that concert, go on that holiday, go on that hike. Just do it.
    • I want to achieve my million and one dreams – finish writing my book, start that business, begin my bucket list.

    And that’s all I can think of right now… Maybe that’s what part of becoming is, learning what makes life ‘full’. I suppose with each season, my definition of ‘living life to the fullest’ will change and that’s okay. My chapters are being written as I go and the ending isn’t set.

    For now, I’m going to stick with trying to find the joy in the small things, to continue being present so I can notice them because right now, continuing to live feels like a cruel privilege. But continuing isn’t a betrayal.

  • Time Didn’t Pause

    I wasn’t going to post this because it’s so raw. I wrote this less than 12 hours after finding out he had passed. There’s no reflection here, no neat resolution. Just disbelief, love and the ache of wanting the world to stop, even for a moment. Writing is the only way I know how to breathe sometimes… And that’s okay.

    You left us yesterday.
    It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.

    I don’t remember the last time I saw you.
    I wish I’d held you longer,
    told you I loved you more.

    All I can think about is the pain,
    how alone you must have been
    in those final minutes.
    Fuck.

    Why doesn’t time pause?
    Why doesn’t life pause?
    Why is everyone still continuing?

    I don’t want to continue.
    I just need time to stop,
    for a moment.

    I miss you.
    I love you.

  • Even In The Darkness, There Is Life

    I don’t even know how to start this entry. What a weird and horrible week. Was my mood dropping constantly last week just foreshadowing what was to come?

    I had to ‘force’ myself to be happy last week, to find happiness – more than once. Was my cat escaping then coming back at night his way of warning me? Probably not. That’s ridiculous. But then Saturday came and the worst news was delivered.

    I don’t understand grief. I don’t think it’s an emotion humans understand at all. I think there are too many emotions involved… sadness, guilt, relief, jealousy, fear, happiness. Maybe grief is just an umbrella term for something that is too hard to label.

    That call. It sounds like a constant ringing in my ears when I try recall it… Time really did slow down and then just freeze. Even now, it doesn’t feel like time has caught up. It feels like everyone else is on normal time… But mine is slowed, like I’m in a haze…

    I don’t feel part of myself. I’m on the outside looking in. But life continues. The school runs continue, work still needs doing, the fridge still needs filling…

    Even in the darkness, there is life.

  • The Trees Will Always Be Beautiful

    Grief has a strange way of softening the world. Everything looks the same, everything stays the same but it all feels wrapped in something heavier. A fog that makes you ache for warmth. I keep reminding myself that even in all that heaviness, there is still beauty. The mark he left is still here. Fog comes and goes, but love… Love will always remain.

    The trees were beautiful,
    but they were covered in fog.
    This thick blanket of heaviness.

    The grief I feel is a blanket of heaviness.
    The trees are still beautiful,
    the mark you left is still beautiful,
    but the fog, the fog is heavy right now.

    There are moments when light tries to shine through,
    but only for a moment.
    A memory of you brings a small laugh, a smile,
    but only for a moment.

    I know the fog will lift soon.
    I know the mark you left will remain beautiful,
    just as the trees will always be beautiful.

    But the fog will always return,
    sometimes light,
    other times thick and heavy.

    That’s okay.
    The trees will always be beautiful.

  • A Conversation With Death

    I wrote this in the first few hours after losing someone I loved deeply. A conversation with something I don’t understand but keep being forced to face.

    Death. 
    You’re a cruel friend. 

    I’ve thought about you, a lot. 
    I know you’ve thought about me too. 
    But you never come for me, do you? 
    You go for the ones I love instead.

    Is this some sort of sick game to you?
    Is it some sort of lesson?
    I don’t need a lesson. 
    Why do you take the ones I love?

    I understand death better than most.
    I know we live and then we die. 
    But why do you take the ones I love?
    Why do you not let them live?

    Death.
    I’m not sure you’re my friend.

  • Messy and Honest

    Today. Today has been weird. I want to say it has been hard but it hasn’t – it’s just hard right now. My cat has gone missing and I’m feeling guilty because I didn’t realise he was missing until this evening when I think he has been gone since this morning. Trying not to think about that too much right now or this whole diary entry will just be me spiralling about my naughty cat. Have an indoor cat, it’s safer they said… Until you leave the door open for a moment too long and they go explore.

    Anyway, what a long week. Work has been unproductive for me, my to do list has gotten bigger each day with very few tasks ticked off. Sleep has not come easy each night

    I wanted to write about my Friday, about my week but I’m just complaining and I hate it. I hate every word coming out of my mouth. I’m anxious. I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I’m… I don’t know what I am. But I do not want this whole diary entry to be me just going on about what has sucked this week. In fact, I don’t even feel like writing honestly. I think i need a cry. I don’t know what I need.

    After sitting and staring at my screen for five minutes, I think I’m just going to let this entry sit. Messy and honest. No reflection, no resolution. Maybe that’s the way my week needed to end.