Creating space

When I woke up this morning I couldn't breathe. Well I could obviously, I am alive, but it felt very claustrophobic to be living within myself.

Nico Teen was a good idea. I stepped outside where the view is amazing and took in the bright autumnal colours of the leaves on the trees.

Dropped my son off at school and continued to put one foot in front of the other. One foot infront of the other, one foot infront of the other, trying to release the pressure inside me.

Saw the widow who lives upstairs. She asked me what's going on with my housing.

I said that I wasn't going to receive the bailiff's order anymore, but the housing association and council had unanimously agreed not to tell me anything because of my 'ability to communicate with the mass media'.

"Oh my god that's taking the piss isn't it? They're just dangling you over the edge. I can't believe it. Actually I can believe it. Shit, you can't do anything can you?"

Her life, if I could tell it, I would. I came upstairs thinking it was worse than mine; the gangs of teenagers I see collected when I walk back from somewhere collect themselves on her floor and she confronted them the other day. Called the housing patrol who said there was noone available to come, called the neighbourhood police who also said there was nothing they could do (these kids routinely gob down the stairwell so you have to watch where you stand, and according to the widow, kicked out a pane of glass from the top last week which narrowly missed two children coming in from the playground when it crashed to the ground.)
There are problems with her young child that I can't go in to.
There are problems with her benefits now she's been transferred from income support to jobseekers but you may hear about that from me when it's my turn.

I came home and switched on my laptop. Went into my inbox and was surprised to see an email from the council. Could you call it a coincidence?

The claustrophobia I am still feeling is akin to a kettle on the hob which is now whistling at full pelt.

I could keep writing until it subsides or I could get the hell out of my flat.

I need to find some space within my claustrophobia, take a tip from Tolle and place myself in the "present moment".

I finished "A New Earth" yesterday. Erkhart Tolle speaks of the forest, how it looks chaotic but is actually ordered.

The Heath is right near me. I am going to take my chaotic mind and place my body in the Heath's natural environment.

I don't really "need" to go anywhere but I do "need" to feel the sun on my face, the breeze on my cheeks, red leaves in my hand, and not think for a bit.

If you feel like me, try something similar.

Good luck x