Floored

I've been a little overwhelmed by negativity recently and some small things that have added together to make me feel a bit as if people think I'm stupid or incapable.

I'm generally a modest, self-deprecating person and put up with being underestimated but sometimes a little voice inside me shouts that I should be a little bolder, a little more pushy or a little more self-assured about myself and whatever it is I am struggling to prove myself at.

But I can't. I'm not like that.

It means I rely on the enjoyment that I get from pure existence and my way of looking at things to see me through. Sometimes it works brilliantly and sometimes I feel like screaming. Only you can't scream, can you?

But you can take something special, put it on the kitchen floor and assume weird positions with a camera and take photos. Concentrating on small things outside of the inner turmoil usually helps.

Richard came into the kitchen this evening to find me sprawled out on the floor, photographing this small sculpture that my lovely friends gave to me (/made for me!) for my fortieth birthday, two years ago, after a particularly difficult and heartbreaking year from which I never recovered.

I love it. It reminds me of a Barbara Hepworth sketch I bought myself a few years back.