Recently the topic for our writing group – not meeting but sharing our work on-line, was ‘Driftwood’ which was a great subject with so many different avenues to explore when writing to it. I’m not boastful in saying that although I suggested the topic because in fact it was the subject for my other writing group a few years ago. I wrote a short story about a couple walking along the sea shore and the narrator was ending their relationship. The idea was that s/he had felt like driftwood, just being carried along, and it made their association seem flaccid and somehow shallow.
With our present situation I think many of us feel like driftwood, just aimlessly floating, with no clear idea where we are, or where we’re going or what lies ahead. There are stormy times, and becalmed times, rough times and listless times. For many it may have been a dream, a wish to be out of the usual routine and having more than enough time to do whatever they wanted or fancied; the reality was different, the reality was a sense of being untethered and lacking motivation, a deadly weariness of mind and spirit and sometimes body as well.
There are many difficulties, everyday-living difficulties and mental and emotional difficulties which people are struggling with, and I am very fortunate that my situation is not as hard and challenging as many others who bravely contend and struggle with all sorts of different issues.
I feel like the piece of driftwood I wrote about, I feel as if I am floating, and constantly have to concentrate on time – time passing and slipping away as well as what time/day/date it is. Last Tuesday I was convinced it was Thursday, and delayed making an appointment because I didn’t think the place was open, and decided to wait until Tuesday – when of course it was actually Tuesday! I thought I had the weekend ahead, in fact it was several more days until the weekend. In actual fact in this weekendless world it really doesn’t matter. Yesterday (Friday) I thought it was Saturday until about midday when suddenly I realised it was Sunday – no it wasn’t, it was still Friday.
Because I am no longer in the day job, time is pretty elastic anyway, I’m not governed by being anywhere first thing and having to stay there until it’s time to leave. That wonderful liberty has been brilliant. Now it is somehow different. I truly feel like that driftwood, and am beginning to wish that I could be washed ashore, and stay ashore – at least for a while.