I ran here,\npursued by shrieking ghouls. And it took several years to arrive. Even longer\nto decide to bolt in the first place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There\u2019s a\nword \u2013 bolt. I bolted doors, windows, cupboard doors and all to keep the ghouls\nat bay. This became my bolt-hole and later, my place of sanctuary. Later still,\nwell I\u2019ll get to that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At first I\nwas a live bundle of nerve endings. Afraid, exhausted, relieved, hurt, someone\nwith a past but no discernable future and certainly without a plan. The new GP\nI signed on with was happy to offer a medicinal route out of my troubles. But I\nwanted to face the ghouls, not reach for their temporary suppression. I was\ngrateful for sick notes to allow me a couple months off work. \u2018Anxiety\u2019 it said\non the note, by way of explanation to my employer. Ha, and the rest, I remember\nthinking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
In fact, it\nwas work that eventually put some structure into my bolt-hole living. Get up;\nwork; shop on the way home; eat; watch TV; bed; fall asleep or lie awake. It\nwas a routine and it divided days into useful units of time. I could plan now:\nsmall things first like what to watch and what to eat. That felt good, just\nbeing in control of tiny sections of my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The other\nreal change came when Nell moved in with me. \nShe was in a sorry state when we met, through someone at work.\nApparently her owner could no longer care for her and things had started to\nslide in her world. She had her own troupe of ghouls following her so we got\nalong really well with this common ground. Now the daily shop included dog food\nand we had to have outings to the park and trips to the beach to meet up with\nother dogs and their willing serfs ready to throw balls and sticks and to\nexcuse occasional lapses of etiquette.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The longer\nterm was still a bit of a challenge. I began to understand it all when I came\nacross the word \u2018liminal\u2019. When I looked it up it seemed to be about a space in\nbetween two states; in between a past and a future way of being \u2013 a transition.\nWhat a very encouraging idea to hang on to. Although not necessarily a\ncomfortable state.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My\nbolt-hole was transforming through sanctuary into a liminal space. I certainly\nknew what was<\/em>, the known known<\/em>, the ghouls still wailed \u2013\nless distinctly, but they could still manage quite a racket. I couldn\u2019t quite\nproduce an outline of a future \u2013 the unknown,\nunknown<\/em> as that US president said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The whole\njoy of liminality was, for me, the thought that there might be<\/em> a future however unknown at present.\nNell was in it, of course. And one or two of the dog walking people we sort of\nknew. And work. And shopping for our dinners. Life goes on, it seems.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I ran here, pursued by shrieking ghouls. And it took several years to arrive. Even longer to decide to bolt in the first place. There\u2019s a word \u2013 bolt. I bolted doors, windows, cupboard doors and all to keep the ghouls at bay. This became my bolt-hole and later, my place of sanctuary. Later still, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"rop_custom_images_group":[],"rop_custom_messages_group":[],"rop_publish_now":"initial","rop_publish_now_accounts":{"facebook_10158782359051062_103813597863211":"","twitter_1225722811282530305_1225722811282530305":""},"rop_publish_now_history":[],"rop_publish_now_status":"pending","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[2,75],"tags":[78,79],"class_list":["post-138","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-2","category-september","tag-liminal","tag-space"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbrNJE-2e","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=138"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138\/revisions\/140"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=138"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=138"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=138"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}