For the first time in a long while, I'm at home over the weekend looking at a diary that is completely devoid of entries. My first thought on Friday night was to rush out and ring people to make appointments but then I sat back and thought "No". So, I've designated this weekend as a weekend for me.
One of the first things that I did was to lie in on Saturday morning. This may sound crazy but I had gotten into a habit of getting up at 7am over the weekend just as I do in the week. The only down side is that I'm feeling more tired the more rest I get. I tell myself that this is partially to do with the weather and partially to do with the number of mildly fluey viruses that everyone else seems o be picking up but I seem to be resisting but, mainly, I think that I am at last owning up to the fact that I've been pushing my poor little body for far too long.
I have had a good time chucking stuff out of the attic. It's been like performing an archaeology on my life. For example, having met up with Ronnie earlier in the week, what did I happen across in the attic but the letters that Ronnie and I exchanged nearly 20 years ago as I came out. And, typically of me then and somewhat now, what a thought out rather than acted out business that was. Still, give myself credit, I was doing it in total isolation with no other reference points so I did bloody well to get as far as I did.
Also there were letters from someone whose name I had completely forgotten but who had a small but important role to play in my growing up. His name was Clive Harris and we went on a drama course together. I might have had my first gay affair with him. Might have. But I didn't and chose the mask of heterosexuality instead. I understand, I think, why the young man that I was at the time made the choices he/I did. I feel frustrated that we didn't make different choices. But I did what I did and I think that I can love my 17/18 year old self and grieve for his fear and loneliness.
So, it's been good throwing stuff out and clearing out the attic and my life and, speaking with Ross, he seems reasonably cool about it as the letter in the previous posting shows. I feel like it vindicates the trust that I'm trying to have in my instincts, the universe, Ross and the whole damn kaboodle.
Nothing much else happened over the weekend apart from my parents going away on holiday and me signing up to help with an Internet stall at the Midsummer Open Day which Quaker meeting are holding in a fortnight's time.