I’m writing this in early May 2025, several weeks after surgery, my fourth operation in six years. I also moved house a week before being admitted to the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital. There’s only so much stress a mind and body can take, I reasoned, thinking it was better to struggle through two life-changing events in quick succession rather than stretch them into a distant and uncertain future.
I realise it’s months since I last posted, so long that I had to remind myself what the point of it is. Indeed, at the end of last year, having sold our home and upended our lives, I wondered whether I should continue working at all because while I live to make films, there's something preventing me from doing the thing I long to do. What's going on? A psychic block? Opioid addiction and its attendant brain fog? Or could it be a lack of confidence in both myself and the project?
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