Doubt

I was lying in bed this morning (as one does), staring at the ceiling and thinking about the nature of doubt. The curse of it in fact.

I wondered whether A.C. Grayling had anything to say about it as my friends recently presented me with two of his books, The Meaning Of Things and The Heart of Things, but regrettably they held not the answers I sought, (although I did wonder whether the chapter on Hope might not somehow qualify being something of doubt's anthithesis).

Anyway, to cut a long story I was wracked with doubt. Doubt about my career, doubt about my partner, doubt about my ability, doubt about living on the island, doubt about my will to change...does that qualify as wracked?

So what do I do about it? I need money but I can't bear the thought of returning to the cheese factory and there's little or nothing else to do for gainful employment. I need a career (see above). I need to resolve the issues within my relationship but can't seem to focus on them whilst distracted by all the other issues (or should that be the other way around - I'm sure A.C. Grayling would have something to say about it).

I still harbour dreams of writing but, as you can tell, my output isn't exactly prolific and this blog is just about the sum total of my efforts. I'm nearing 40 and feel no more at home in the world than when I was a tortured undergraduate, at that time it was almost expected of me as an arts student but now I can't help feeling the mantle sits a little uneasily on my ageing, rounded shoulders.

As an aside I spoke to my Nana last night. When I was back in the UK, Peter and myself took down her old garden shed and erected another in it's stead. This act was replete with symbolism as her husband, Fred, spent a great deal of time in that shed before being overcome with altzhiemers, depression and eventally death.

Removing it was something I really wanted to do for Nana as I miss her when I'm away and feel a degree of guilt for not being nearer to her in her dotage. I'd hoped that the new shed would stand as a symbol of my love for her but last night she informed me that she spent a couple of hours sitting by it yesterday and worried that she'd never see me again. That comment didn't exactly fill me with the sense of self satisfaction that I'd selfishly hoped for.

Neither has writing about doubt to be honest.