It’s been a whole year since Buttercup Belle entered the world, all bright eyed and bushy tailed. A year?! I remember starting this blog as if it were yesterday. It was a rainy day in Cardiff (shock) and I’d spent what felt like an eternity fighting the untameable beast that is Welsh weather before treating myself to a feast of sugary badness. Oh, what a memorable day.
And what better way to celebrate this anniversary than with a month’s blogging sabbatical?
The truth is, these have been a strange few months for me. Apart from a glorious week back in the UK visiting my perfect niece and nephew, I haven’t felt great. It was something I couldn’t put my finger on. Something just wasn’t right.
I found myself transforming into this sluggish character I didn’t recognise. I had no energy to do anything, no energy to feel anything. Days would slip into nights and nights would slip into days without me even being able to pinpoint what I had done. My mind was zooming in on the negatives, on my negatives. Looking in the mirror, all I would see were the curves sticking out in all the wrong places, the tightness of my jeans against my legs, the fine white lines running across my thighs and arse. In the week I never even considered wearing makeup, barely ran a hair brush through my bird’s nest. I was doubting my self worth, something I never do, to the point where everything I was doing just seemed a little pointless.
I tried so desperately to keep up the persona. To throw myself into creating side projects in a bid to reconnect with the fire, with the passion, that would always bring me happiness.
Oh, but the negative reflections still continued to shine back at me. When things didn’t work out 100% immediately, I saw it as a failure. I saw myself as a failure for not achieving this grandeur I felt was expected of me. It was as if I was letting people down by not being this plate spinning, joke cracking, super positive woman. I wanted to be perfect.
You know what? Perfect sucks. Perfect is a big, fat, stinkin’ lie.
This chase for perfection is my downfall. I can’t be perfect, and I never will be. We need to take our positives with our negatives. Learn from our negatives, be bigger than them. We cannot, should not, purely focus on these little bastards.
It’s easier said than done, I know. But I can now see that this sudden drop in my mental energy was purely linked to my fascination with my darker elements. I needed a mental shift. A 360 switch to throw my attention back to the good.
And actually, it turns out there’s a friggin’ ton of that in my life right now!
Sometimes it just takes a while to fight through the mud to see it.
So – what does this all mean for Buttercup Belle? Amidst this bizarre, not so great mental period, I stopped writing. Of course, professionally I was still writing every day. And I was marketing my own projects, creating freelance proposals and material. But actually just sitting and writing for me? Not so much.
I missed it. I missed it so very much. Because writing is something that has always provided me with the ultimate release. Since a young age it has defined me. Whether I was writing letters to my sister to apologise for being such a brat, or creating poems for weddings… even funerals, I was writing. Whether 1000s of people read it or no one at all, it doesn’t make a difference to me. I just need to do it. To get it out of me, out of my soul, onto the paper.
I want a positive change in my life. And already, a lot is happening to make that a reality. I am officially providing freelance work to clients and have also recently opened my own dance school in Florence. I am taking steps to build my brand (fuck me I hate that phrase) and reach my end goal.
Part of that goal is to expand my writing portfolio. I want this blog to reflect that. In the past my blog has been a bit of a flashing lights, sequined hotpants and drag queen wig kinda affair. Put simply, it was all a bit much. It detracted from the writing. So now I want to scale it back, right back, to keep it on the primary focus.
Why Words of Wander? Well, a fresh start requires a fresh name. To me, words of wander epitomizes this journey. Travelling to find the right words. Travelling to find my story. Wandering through the realms of self discovery and making sense of it the only way I know how. In the glorious words of my idol Cheryl Strayed, I’m going to write like a motherfucker.
A dash of wanderlust and a heavy heart.
Damn. It feels good to be back.