Becoming, Lucy

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  • Allowed

    Today I did something scary. I admitted to a friend I wanted to be a writer. And here I am admitting it again. It’s a big day for becoming Lucy. 

    When I admitted it, I was instantly reminded of something I saw the other day – if you want to be something, but already do it, aren’t you already that something? e.g. if you want to be a writer, but already write, then you are a writer. 

    And I am. I write my blog. I write my novels. I write (bad) poetry. I write random thoughts. 

    The thing, I realised, making me not believe I am a writer, is because of that funny thing I discussed earlier in the week – resonance. 

    I do not feel seen. 

    So I took a leap today and published my writing on another platform. Not just my blog. 

    I don’t write for views, nor do I want to write for views. I want to write for me, and I do. But sometimes, as most people do, I want someone to read my words and resonate with them. In whatever capacity. Whether that’s taking a completely different meaning from them or taking them as they are, I just want someone to resonate. To say “thanks, I needed that.” 

    It’s all about feeling less alone at the end of the day, I suppose.

    My writing might make someone feel less alone but knowing there’s someone out there, seeing me… Yeah. That’s what I’m searching for. Not to make someone else feel less lonely, but selfishly so I feel less lonely. 

    I never thought 25 would be this lonely. I hate myself for feeling lonely. I chose this life. 

    I don’t feel like I fit in with other mums – I stand in playgrounds and feel like I’m wearing someone else’s life. Or I don’t fit in with people my age – I see their Instagram posts and can’t resonate with the life they’re living, building for themselves. I don’t have a category I just fit into. A group I can easily say “yeah, these are my people.” 

    Maybe that’s a fortunate thing. Being able to fit everywhere. But truthfully, I don’t want to fit everywhere. I want somewhere that feels like mine. 

    I don’t know if I’m allowed to want anything more without breaking everything. 

    For now, it is lonely. Never quite fitting. Just being. I’ll just be.

    I’m a human being that is just being. 
    Being human.
    Becoming me. 
    Becoming Lucy. 

  • On Wanting to Be Seen

    Lately I’ve been noticing my patterns and how I respond to certain things, specifically around being supported and being seen.

    I crave being seen. It has taken a lot of internal work to realise that is what I want, what I need. I find myself seeking it in people I love, in people I know love me but I’m never fully met with what it was I was searching for.

    And that’s okay. They’re still supportive. They still love me. I still love them. But they don’t really get it or understand me. It’s a weird thing to be okay with.

    I think you can only really ‘see’ yourself. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t really have a clear answer on that.

    I have been searching for clarity. But instead I realised that clarity arrives as discomfort rather than answers, and I have been living in discomfort for a long time as I worked through what I needed, what I wanted.

    And what I need, what I want is resonance. I used to think resonance was attention seeking… I don’t anymore. My soul craves resonance. I think all souls crave resonance. I’m not sure where I’ll find it but I know it’s out there. A song, a book, a person… Fuck. Maybe a mirror. Who knows?

    I know it’s not something I will solve straight away but maybe I can find peace in my discomfort, in my search for clarity, in the lack of resonance. Maybe, just maybe there is peace in the unknown.

    Does anyone ever really know someone? Or can you only know yourself?

  • Seconds

    I burnt myself in the shower today.
    Not by accident.
    I got in and turned it up.
    Slowly.
    Gradually.
    It got to the perfect temperature.
    Then I asked what if I kept going,
    so I did.
    When the water touched me next,
    I couldn’t feel it.
    It was so hot, it was cold.
    Numb.
    My skin felt fine.
    But underneath the surface,
    it screamed.
    I wondered if it was a metaphor.
    For how I live my life.
    I know I’m not okay.
    I know what’s wrong with me.
    Yet I still live this way.
    I don’t turn it off, I don’t stop.
    I keep going.
    Till it’s numb.
    Till only the inside hurts.
    It screams.

    I burnt myself in the shower today.
    If I’m in control of my emotions,
    why can’t I turn them down?
    Why can’t I turn down the dial?
    Why can’t I make it stop?
    Do I choose to be in pain?
    Do I choose to live this way?
    Soon the burn will start to show.
    Soon the pain inside will start to show.
    Make it stop.

    I turned down the dial today,
    just a little.
    It still burned.
    But the screaming,
    it wasn’t deafening.
    I could hear
    for just a second.
    I could breathe,
    for just a second.
    It still wasn’t clear.
    But it was better.
    Just a little.
    I had more time.
    I had seconds.
    To think.
    To breathe.
    To feel.

  • Tonight

    I’ve been listening to a lot of NF recently… I know, that tells you a lot about where my head and heart is at.

    Not sure what I’m to say about that, or why I felt the need to share. I needed to write tonight – I have nothing to write about but everything is just sort of sitting heavy on my chest at the moment… So here I am. Showing up for myself. But with nothing to say.

    It always feels anti-climatic. “Oh shit, I can’t breathe, the weight of the world is squeezing against my ribs” then, “oh, now I’m sat here trying to figure it out, I’m clueless and the weight just feels imaginary, made up.”

    I swear I do it to myself. Make things ten times bigger than they are. I was always good at being dramatic.

    See, now I’m just being… The word has completely gone from my head. Oh. Self-deprecating. I’m good at that. Good at finding nothing nice to say about myself. I always make myself out to be too much, every trait is too much. Too curious, too hopeful, too much of a romantic, too kind, too sad, too dramatic, too quiet, too reserved. However, sometimes I’m the opposite of hopeful, I’m pessimistic or I can be too open with people and overshare. It’s confusing and I think that’s part of the reason I don’t know who I am.

    Fuck knows what I’m saying honestly.

    There it is again. Self-deprecating behaviour. Not trusting the words I have to say are worth writing, worth voicing, worth reading.

    I write everything I think. It’s a habit. I don’t stop to rethink the phrasing of a sentence, I just let it fall out my brain to my fingers. I don’t think I’d ever be able to pause, I would lose my train of thought way too quickly.

    I have no idea where I am going with this and the weight on my chest doesn’t feel any lighter, it still feels unresolved.

    I have re-read everything I have just wrote and the answer is there. I know what’s wrong with me but I can’t bring myself to admit it. If I admit it out loud, I have to do something about it. Okay.

    Deep breath.
    Long exhale.

    I have been dreaming. Not sleep dreaming, although I’m sure I have, but dreaming of a different life. Maybe not life but a career. I have two big dreams and they’re both extremely scary to even consider but there’s a part of me that just thinks: “what if?”

    What if I just tried? Just did it? What’s that saying? Something about just starting? Another one just came into my head: ‘Just make it exist now, you can make it perfect later’… And this thing, these dreams will never be perfect but I think that’s the beauty in them.

    I simply just need to believe in myself for a change. I need to stop being afraid.

    I think tonight… Tonight I don’t need to resolve it all. I don’t need to make my dreams a reality right now, I just need to stop circling the truth – my dreams aren’t imaginary, they are not too big and I don’t need to decide everything all at once.

    Tonight. Tonight I showed up, I spoke my truth, I released some of the pressure in my chest, I didn’t hide. Tonight I laid the first brick.

    Maybe my next step is to stop believing I’m flawed for dreaming, for wanting more, for longing.

    I’ll figure it out. Brick by brick.

  • A Calling

    A calling.

    It has been on my mind for a month now.
    I saw a video from one of my favourite creators, not knowing their calling,
    I realised I don’t know mine.

    I have never known what I was meant to do.
    Where I am supposed to go.
    Who I’m supposed to be.

    I feel so lost.

    But also not at all.

    I’m not sure what that means.
    Life just kind of feels like…
    Groundhog Day.
    Repeating.
    No true purpose.

    I’m an imposter everywhere.
    Right now.
    Alone.
    I’m an imposter.

    What’s my purpose?
    Am I even meant to have one?
    Am I simply just a being put on this world because two people created me?

    Some people have clear purpose.
    To make history, to research, to be a mother, a father, to make a difference.
    But what about me?
    Am I really here just to exist?

    Maybe I’m just a mistake. An accident.
    No purpose. No calling. Just a being.

    I should take that and run.
    No calling means I am free.
    Free to explore.
    Free to be whoever I want to be.
    Free to discover.
    Free to live.

    But there has to be more to this life than just living it.

  • Notes From A Coffee Shop

    I have rewritten this starting sentence about twenty times. I’m just not sure what I want to say and that summarises my week. The truth is I’ve been busy working on evenings, overwhelmed and exhausted from the day so I’ve been too disassociated and tired to really focus on writing at the times I usually write.

    But today is different – today I have scheduled time to write during the day. I need this, I need to process the week. Honestly, I feel like I’m failing as a mother. Maybe I shouldn’t be writing this in a coffee shop as that was a heavy truth and tears are threatening. But yeah, I’m just carrying a lot as a parent this week, this month but I know it’s just a season and it’ll soon get easier.

    Although I haven’t found much time to write this week, whenever I’ve had something that I needed to get down and out of my mind, I have written it somewhere. I can’t remember what the inspiration was or what I was thinking about at the time but I wrote something in my notes app as a prompt for later writing or to dive deeper into when I have the energy.

    I’m so human
    Full of life
    Energy
    Silly gestures
    Happiness
    Sadness
    Curiosity

    I wouldn’t say it was some sort of big revelation or this big empowering moment as I was writing it or even now as I read it… It’s this quiet acceptance of being human, of being no more than a being.

    I have been thinking a lot recently about purpose; my purpose, the purpose of the human race. I’ve struggled with an answer and truly I don’t think there is an answer, not a straightforward one anyway. But writing that… I’m not sure. It just made something click for me – that I’m okay without a purpose as long as I just keep being human. Whatever that means.

    I was going to leave it there but I’m sat here, sipping my coffee and watching human interaction. Strangers saying good morning to one another, elderly parents with their middle aged children talking, couples sharing silence and sipping over roasted coffee beans, a husband winding up his wife shining a torch from his keys in her eyes, a group of friends gossiping animatedly.

    We’re all human.
    And it’s so beautiful.

  • Blah

    I’m just not sure today.

    I need to write because the thoughts feel like they are stacking up again (it has only been two days since I last wrote) but I’m not sure what I want to write about or what I need to write about.

    I feel like I’m waiting for something to happen but I have no idea what it is. I should probably try find the answers but I don’t know where to begin searching or what I’m searching for. I suppose some people would say just start searching and you’ll know when you’ve found it or that I can’t wait for the answers to come to me. But… Blah. (Great use of words, I know.)

    I’ve just stared at my keyboard for the last 5 minutes wondering what to write next and all I can think of is ‘blah’. That’s just how everything feels. Every thought. Every feeling. Every action. They feel blah.

    I should be crowned for my amazing describing words.

    What’s the point of it all?

    Maybe I should have some big revelation that the point of it all is ‘this’. This thing that I call becoming. But right now it sounds ridiculous. Even trying to believe it annoys me.

    I don’t know. I feel… suspended. But almost as though someone is holding me upside down by the ankles and telling me to find a specific puzzle piece in a room filled with different puzzles.

    I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel dramatic. I don’t feel inspired. I just feel blah.

    Can someone press ctrl, alt, delete on my brain please? Thanks x

  • WordPress Asked, I Answered

    Where can you reduce clutter in your life?

    My damn brain.

    Give that shit a reboot.

    Or just yeet it out the window and start over.

    Byeeee clutter.

  • Digital Hearses

    I couldn’t write last night. I didn’t feel as though I had anything to say which is funny because I spent the whole day with the giggles. I spent the whole day catching myself laughing over absolutely nothing which is such a contrast to how I’ve been recently with this ache, the pull in my chest.

    Maybe I finally felt relief from discovering what it was and my body processed that through literal giggles all day… Honestly, I was like a five year old laughing over the most mundane shit. At one point I was laughing because I was ripping up a cardboard box for the bin… What?

    Anyway, it’s now the next day – I am sat in a coffee shop, supposed to be working but I just feel this need to write, to get my thoughts out. I can’t really hear the thoughts or make sense of them, they’re like half finished sentences in my brain currently. Lots of them all at once, just when I think I’m about to latch onto one, a new one catches my attention.

    That’s what it’s like in my brain all the time. I don’t think I ever complete a full thought.

    I started reading White Nights by Dostoyevsky the other day – I haven’t finished reading Crime and Punishment yet, or my fantasy read I’m a third of the way through… But you know, I’m not this chaotic mess without the chaos.

    Anyway, the point of me saying that is because the first three pages spoke to me in a way I have been thinking about since I read them. He talks/pretends to hear to inanimate objects, gives them personalities and also avoids conversations with strangers…
    Now, I have no idea if this character is delulu – I had to stop reading after the third page due to my ‘holy shit’ moment – so I could be admitting on the internet that I am also delulu but it was a special sort of recognition moment.

    The more I read Dostoyevsky, the more I fall in love with his characters and also how he makes me feel less alone, less silly. Humans have been chaotic, emotional messes for centuries and I am not just broken. It’s a special sort of comfort.

    See, now that I’m here, once again I have no idea what the point of all this was. I just zoned out for ten minutes, people watching whilst I tried to figure out the point. I didn’t get to the point.

    I’m just getting to the point where I think I need to write almost everyday to help empty my thoughts. That reminds me of a song actually… Let me find the lyrics: “I pick up the pieces, turn ’em to verses. Digital hearses, all from my mind.” – Such a powerful line that resonates so hard… Even if I won’t be rapping anytime soon. (The song is smbdy2u by ix, uyi – for those interested).

    So it is now the evening and I have opened this tab back up to see this entry… Honestly forgot I wrote this earlier until I saw it there.

    Still not sure on the point.

    Maybe the point is what I said above – I need to write everyday to help empty my thoughts.

  • Liminal

    I just turned the music up in my headphones to avoid feeling, to stop thinking.

    Of course it didn’t work, the thoughts just got louder. They don’t want to be silenced now that I understand them. My head and heart are finally speaking the same language and they refuse to be silenced.

    This isn’t something I can outrun. This isn’t something I can pretend I didn’t learn. It’s not something I can just put in a box. I have to feel it. I have to work through it.

    So yeah. I have figured out what the ache in my chest was/is. My revelation came at the worst time. Both kids running wild and causing chaos before tea (or dinner) – the after school/nursery crazies. I was in the middle of washing up after preparing tea and the ache came again and then for the first time it followed with words, with something I could understand.

    ‘Fuck’.

    Quite literally my first thought, breathed out slowly. There’s not much I could do about it then so I quickly grabbed my phone and wrote out everything into my notes app whilst the kids continued to shout and make the living room look like a bomb had gone off.

    Now it’s about three hours later, the boys are in bed and I was quietly hoping I could avoid thinking about it again, but of course it has creeped back in. So I did what every normal person avoiding their emotions and thoughts would do, put on my headphones and slowly turned the volume up.

    I quickly found Ascensionism by Sleep Token and put it on repeat. I’ve been quietly obsessed with this song for a while now – I just thought it was a certain part of the song I was hooked on but as I sit and listen (whilst trying to ignore this ache), I realise the lyrics are crazy specific to my journey.

    I don’t just resonate with the lyrics, I recognise them.

    I want to transcend. I’m constantly split between longing and logic. I love so deeply it becomes spiritual, I hurt so quietly that it becomes cosmic. I have been living in this space of who I once was and who I am becoming. Grieving the old me’s – the Lucy’s that never got this, the Lucy’s that could never make it over the threshold.

    The song to some people may be about love/obsession, Vessels relationship with Sleep (Sleep Token lore for those that don’t know), but for me it’s about the state I am in.

    I am becoming alive inside but my life, my outershell – they haven’t caught up yet and don’t reflect everything inside of me.

    I am living in a liminal space.

    I need to learn to be okay with that, for now. I just need to sit with this new knowledge, understand what it means for me and how to slowly make my life work for the Lucy I am becoming. For now, I just need to witness this.

    I am not late. I am not broken. I am waking up.