I haven’t spoken a word to anyone since I dropped my husband outside his office at 8.15 this morning. It’s now 16.01. That’s almost eight hours.
Eight hours of being inside my own head. Eight hours of words and thoughts and pictures and feelings bouncing around in my skull with nowhere to go. Granted I mumbled a few words of affection to the cat. And I sang along to The XX for a bit. But for the other 7 hours and 47 minutes I have been mute.
You might be envious. I get that. It’s quite possible you rarely, if ever, get 8 hours to yourself. Because you probably work somewhere where there are other grown ups, who talk and ask questions and say stupid stuff and annoy you and are brilliant. Or you are taking care of your kids who do much the same as the grown ups but with more cute. I miss that.
Such is the life of a “writer” who works from home.
So what shall I do to stop the words bouncing around in my head? Well I will vomit a lot of them out here and they can bounce around the internet for a bit instead. And I will spit some of them out into my paper journal – those words that are too shy to bounce around the internet. And I will take a leaf out of Lindsay Ratowsky‘s book and go and drink coffee with people. A lot of people. 50 of them at least. But I won’t be counting.
What I will do is learn stuff. I will explore this new city of mine through the people I meet and the places I meet them. I will spend less time talking to myself and more time talking to others. Those hours and minutes that I am not being Mum to 3 and wife to 1 will be spent making connections with people that inspire me. People that expand my mind and my world. And I will bring tales of those meetings back here and share them with you. And maybe you will be a little inspired too.
Either way it will stop me from quietly going insane. I hope.