Sometimes the words just flow and sometimes they don’t. Today, I was working on the module that comes with the a new program from the physiotherapy class that I signed up for. This class is an intensive three month program which usually is offered after active treatment and it includes not only the physical rehabilitation part of things, but it also offers a module which walks you through a process of reflecting on what’s happened and what you would like to happen moving forward. It’s a module divided into six sessions and signing up for the module includes a page where you list down everything from the moment of diagnosis up to your last active treatment.

It was rather something to look back and realise that from 2022 up to the end of 2024, I was in constant treatment and my days were marked by hospital visits. It’s also good to recognise that I’ve been out of active treatment for five months.

I find myself no longer planning in terms of “if treatment will allow” to thinking in terms of “Oh hey, I can do that thing and take that course and I can play together with the band and go to workshop”. It seems like a small change, but it is actually a huge change from not knowing to some sort of knowing and where planning can now occur in two month stages instead of the one week when I feel good stage. I actually had this idea that I’d dealt with the stages of grief during those three years, but having looked at the dates reminds me that it wasn’t nothing. So here I am thinking on it and feeling thankful that I made it through all those treatments. I am thankful that I’m still here.

I’ve learned that even when we think we can’t, we still can and there is nothing more precious than today and if there’s something worth doing, there’s no sense in delaying the doing of that something.

There was a short period after treatment when I had a sense of “Oh, my days are stretching out now” and “so what do I do?”

Lately, I’ve been filling my days with watercolour practice. As I said to my therapy mates, I didn’t have the opportunity to learn how to use all these different materials when I was young, but I’m learning them now and it’s like a world has opened up in front of me. I didn’t know, for instance, that getting a good result in watercolours has a lot to do with the materials that you use. Of course, it’s the same for all other things, but watercolours are pickier than pastels and acrylics and if you use bad paper, it’s a given that your watercolours will look more grisly than if you used something that’s a better grade. I’m practicing on Aquapad paper which is thick enough and satisfying enough. (Arches are the best, but I feel like I need to get to that point where I can justify spending lots of cash on Arches.)

I’m happy that I have art making to keep me company, because it seems my fiction brain isn’t quite ready yet. I did the thing last week where I decided to just grit my teeth and open the work in progress and after reading the first page, I just had no idea. The sense of overwhelm was such that I decided to close the document and re-think my strategy. Maybe I’m not ready yet to face a work I left at 70k words. Maybe I need to section it up into smaller units that my brain can focus on in small bursts. I’m not sure yet. The work is niggling on the edges of my awareness, it’s just getting down to it that costs more than I can spend at the moment.

In the meantime, the watercolours are spread open on my desk. Brushes and pens and paper with some grisly attempts at portraiture. For the first time, I did manage a reasonable study in values. Not bad, I thought. I put a date at the top. Maybe I’ll look back at it in a hundred days and say: Oh wow. I started there, huh.

For you who have taken the time to drop by and read this, I want to say thank you. Blessings and peace and may your days be filled with good things.