Wednesday, 1 April 2015

Righteous anger.

This post must (really must) be kept brief because as I sit here, I am once more surrounded with a pile of work I must do. This is a somewhat familiar situation for me to be in. Since I wrote my last post and have been part of some discussions about what is/is not appropriate to share, I have come to a realisation that I would like a little more 'realness' in here. I received a message from a friend recently who asked what I meant in my last post. I can be so cryptic that even my good friends search for the hidden meaning. I was also sat on the train to London and another very good friend of mine noted that I rarely write any more, and that she knows there is much more than I will ever say, almost like I filter out what I write and every couple of weeks once I've gathered enough of a rose-tinted perspective can I permit myself to write. This was not meant to be the point of this project that I began five years ago, and if I read back, I see that there was a point when I wrote more freely about life and the decisions I was making. I have been asking myself, what is the point in writing if I am not writing the truth? I was at a BACP conference over the weekend in London and one speaker particularly sticks in my mind. Not just because her name was beautiful (Aqualma), but because she was speaking her truth. It was engaging and it was real, and there is nothing more liberating and powerful than that. I have decided to speak less cryptically, to adopt more of a real tone, to be less defensive about what I share, but to also make active decisions about what I decide to write and what I decide to protect. I don't want to reach a point where I read over my own writing and can't even de-code what I write about my own life.

I think it is safe to say I don't spend every day at yoga drinking juice and coffee and celebrating birthdays with friends. I do need a little spare time to write, so often I write on the days when I can go to yoga and make good coffee. But of course life is not always bright, the sun is not always shining, and sometimes like any other human, I can feel anything but gratitude and love.

As ever, today is about balance for me. I was supposed to keep the day free for a modelling job, but then got a message saying 'you are not needed now'. So that is fine, I have a free day. But after rearranging all my work for today to different days and ensuring my schedule was free, that turns out to be nothing but a wasted effort and it might not be so 'fine' after all. One day I know I will 'retire' from this modelling work. I keep telling myself this, and I keep knowing that as I progress with my career and 'other life', it is difficult to keep up with last minute travel plans or schedule requests and I am past the point of wanting to work for free to improve my book. In fact, my book has been in London for about two years and I haven't even used it since I left it at the agency there. I am past the point of wanting to go to the casting because the director might see me and like me, because that client might have lots of jobs for me, or because that photographer works around Europe and knows all the good clients around the world. But wait a minute... He might only like me if I skipped dinner for the past week and if I grew a few inches and my skin was as clear as water and if I measured up. Only on the condition that I measure up. I have gotten to the point of developing such thick skin, so thick that it has broken me and I have re-built it again.  I have reached the point where I can say 'I am not in this world to live up to your expectations...' You are you and I am I. But when yours is the only voice that is saying that, it is a lonely expedition indeed.

So despite my thickened skin and tolerance for last minute changes, (I have even learnt to embrace last minute changes) it is times like this this that I have now granted myself permission for righteous anger. I do have a day off, and the time is a gift I am sure. But I know now why I am more likely to rebel. My time is so important to me and feeling that my time is de-valued isn't too dissimilar to feeling like me (who I am) is de-valued too. This isn't the place to rant, but as I was reminded not so long ago, ranting is not always a 'bad' thing.

Ranting aside, and anger accepted, I shall continue with my day. Perhaps only now I have written this I can get on with what I need to do. I have already done my washing, gone to town, thought I needed to shop and distract myself but really only reminded myself that I don't like shopping so I came back home. So I sit here, papers by my side. I have another rant left in me, but that is for a different day. I wrote that this post must be kept brief. I am not sure I met that criteria... But I don't know when ranting was ever kept brief.

1 comment:

  1. I love this post Tanya, and I welcome the 'realness' wholeheartedly x