I went on vacation. My intention was to make time for writing. But things rarely go as planned. I had a nice time, spent with family, reading novels, going for short trips to Swedish islands. And now, it’s the last day of my summer vacation.
It’s raining in Skarpnäck, but there are still flowers in the gardens. Tomorrow I’m due back at the office, there is a conference at main uni campus, then there’s the SRC fall kick-off on another Swedish island, and then I’ll be going to Montpellier, France, for a workshop. No slow start.
One thing I’ve promised to take with me into the fall, though. I’ve promised to not let myself get overwhelmed again.
Ashely said, when I met her a week ago: “You seem a lot happier”. Three weeks of not thinking about my research, that was it.
Allowing myself time. It’s a necessity. Reading novels make me happy. Spending time with family, close friends. Being outdoors. And not letting the weight of what I’m doing drown me in worry and blind me to the light, small things that make the serious possible to bear.
Writing is a small thing. But it is something that I’ve been carrying with me since I was eleven. It’s become part of how I think. Only, I haven’t given myself the time to put anything down lately. So now, I promise myself, and you, that I will make myself the time to write. Here, or elsewhere, for fun, separate from the difficult, exhausting scientific writing that I’ve been trying but still cannot wrap my head around. I will find my way back to that teenage passion – and hopefully, it will get me through the fall.
Me, enjoying the twenty meters per second wind on Koster, the westernmost inhabited group of islands in Sweden. Beyond the crashing waves, only ocean.
This is a start: Let me take you back to my visit to West Africa in April.
Katja Malmborg 