charles barrow's writing

More than a week of January has passed already. It's usually such a long (seeming) month that it's a blessing that a quarter of it has passed before I really noticed. The weather has been continually wet since the new year began, and I've been feeling rather under par since Christmas, so what outdoor exercise I've managed to get between showers has been welcome but short lived. I have, however, very much enjoyed catching many signs of an emerging spring - emerald spears of the early daffodil, crocus and snowdrop. Songbirds singing to ward off trespassers in their territory, and nest building. Buds on the hydrangea. All of these things help to lift my spirits. My mental health has not been good recently, so I've actively been thinking about what does bring me joy, and what brings the dark clouds into my life. I'm making lists. It's difficult to find any consistency when it comes to self care, it has to be worked at. And life has a tendency to poke a stick in ...

Smoking. Diet. Exercise. Hobby. Career. Charity. Finances. Mental wellbeing. A new language. Stop this. Start that. Do this more, and that less. Try something else entirely. My finger hovered over the 'Buy Now' button for another self improvement book in the Amazon January sale. Another self improvement book to sit on my virtual bookshelf alongside the other titles I've bought over the years; and rarely, if ever, read let alone acted upon. And then I stopped myself. A new me might be intriguing (though probably exhausting to achieve) but wouldn't be me . I'm already me. And I'm not so bad, I decided. I could probably do with a bit of a trim, some buffing up, a kick up the arse, but actually I'm not so bad. I get there, I get things done, more tortoise than hare I'll admit, but that's my way. So I stepped into 2019 in the same suit of clothes that I wore through 2018 - a little wrinkled, in need of a press, a bit faded, but still comfortable, still ...