There are no shoulds, he says to me, time and time again. And I know this, or at least I want to know this but the feeling that there is something I ought to be doing has such a power over me. I have learnt my lesson well.
The discomfort, that inner fighting has eased a little – a combination of literally getting my house in order and tea and beginning to detach myself from the problem a little and allowing other ideas to filter in. And with it comes less physical stress epitomised by waking with a headache and indigestion in the middle of the night. I didn’t last night for the first time in a week.
I am scared of him. I am not sure why. He represents power, he is one of those panel members who I see in my mind’s eye judging me, always judging me and finding me wanting. I have invented this jury and I carry them around with me. And he is now a firm member, he in his tweed sports jacket and brooch. I want to do this my way. Is that allowed? I want to be truthful, to keep it small, manageable, containable but brave too. And then there is the other fantasy of a small job that would pay my way and leave me free to allow myself to create the rest of the time. Could this be? Have I the energy to do it? It is a warm environment. I might be happy there. Oh, how to live. I have never known this.
What was it my dream that made me scream?
