It feels like an age since I did an up to date post i.e. not one I wrote months ago and put on scheduled release.
How are things with you? I hope you, my fair readership, are doing really well.
As for me? I’m taking life as it comes, which I guess I always do. I try to just keep going, reminding myself in the darker times, that I have seen bigger, scarier things in my life than that of my current situation. I got through all that, so I should be just fine in the end.
I’m still missing my mother (obviously), but I think I was missing her long, long before she died. I think one of the worst things, is the knowledge that I will never be able to have a relationship with her. For years, I clung onto the belief that one day, she’d be able to be in my life. It’s those cruel ‘what ifs’ that parade across your minds eye when you try to sleep or get back to ‘normal’.
It is funny how that kind of grief, that ‘what if’ factor, is so similar to how I grieved for my twin daughters. When you lose a baby, it is a torrent of ‘what ifs’.
What if they’d lived? What if you did something different during their pregnancy? What would they look like? How would they sound? What lines would there be on the palms of their hands? Would they get scars from chicken pox? What would be their favourite foods? Who would they aspire to be?
With my mum, so many of the those basic blanks can be filled in. With my girls, the fundamental nature of them make them more infinitely cruel.
I at least got to hold my Mum’s hand again. I got to know what the touch of her long, cool fingers against my cheek felt like once more. Even though she wasn’t aware of it, I at least got to remember.
I’ll never get to see my eldest two grow up. I will never see them become women, mothers, partners/ wives, employees or even school girls. My mother got to be all of those things. Although she may have been very young when she died (58 years), she at least got to live and take or reject the opportunities that came her way. I can take comfort in that as I balance off my grief against the backdrop of what I have already suffered.
The Personal Journey
A personal journey I started about a year or so ago, seems to be an ongoing thing now. It largely takes the form of lots of extremely long emotional emails to a friend (who hopefully hasn’t been weirded out by me yet!). Not to mention the all-night conversations with my long suffering husband.
I’m not sure where to go with it. Previously, I had just tried to bury it, or channel it into art, if it had to come out over the years. I’ve never really looked at it in detail and analysed it too much. I think it felt like I didn’t have permission because it was in my past and therefore, should remain there – but also because it is something scary to look at. It is nightmarish in both scope and vision and has, in fact, given me nightmares since I began looking at it again, properly.
I know the light inside of me that kept me tough and kept me going all those years ago during this period to which I allude, burns bright now. It seemed that back then, that all other lights had gone out and I had to dig down through the horror and pitch dark misery to uncover my light. It feels like I’m doing it again, but this time, more acknowledging that through the dank, dead earth and ashes of my pain, I do have this light inside of me.
I had it during periods in my life when I wanted to give up (and did), because there were moments even then, when I fought back, shouted NO and cracked on. I think it’s the inner belief that I had that I was weak and worthless; a twisted brain-washing by putrid souls that were around me, especially when I was younger.
I feel a bit rubbish for offloading my shizzle on people – but to be honest, the poor friend I’m offloading onto, is kind of doing the same. Which is great in many ways and sad in many others. They went through it too.
It’s kind of nice to know that I am not alone, but also ultra shitty to know that I am not and that another innocent soul has had to suffer too.
I persevere 🙂 so will she.
I am not very writery at present, but the ideas are still very much alive and taking shape. I realised the other day that the reason I had ground to a halt on my novel, was the fact that one of the main characters needed stripping back to basics and reworking from the ground up. I hate those sorts of revelations in lots of ways, but they can be fun as you reimagine who and what you are dealing with.
Is it weird to apologise to a character? No? Okay. Sorry Nick.
My Family and Other Animals
They bide fine. They are gorgeous and special and mad as a box of frogs and are my universe. Love them utterly, madly and completely. Even the weird ones 😉
My older daughter is coming to the end of her second year of being at school. She changes as much as the baby. Sometimes I will look at her face and see a glint of the woman she will grow into. It terrifies the life out of me, to be honest. I want my baby back 😦
I’ve realised, that at the age of 32, I’m cracking on a tad. My metabolism is slowing, I’m tired quicker, I’m no longer down with the kids and I’m getting grey hair and wrinkles.
Instead of investing in a cracking pair of sexy carpet slippers and a blue rinse, I’ve decided to up the skin care routine, buy more Avon, wear more make up for work and obsess over my eye brows. A lot. Twenty minutes in the mirror last night with a pair of tweezers, tongue stuck out in concentration and a crazed look firmly planted on my face.
Is that really what aging looks like? Gordon Bennett.
Anyway my fine friends, tootles!