Wednesday Wonderings

I know, its been a while since you've seen one of these, what can I say I've been busy. Not sure doing what exactly, but am pretty sure it was important at the time... Yup that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

During my not-so busy times I've been giving considerable thought to the following;

What goes on in my friend's 3 year old H's head - she is always running around the place, is addicted to ABBA and is the most amazing little firework that I've ever met. She stole a piece of my heart the moment she came out of her shell in front of me. Even if she does more often than not of late tell me she hates me.

How you explain to a 3 year old - H again - that her dog Bella the Boxer has died because she was far too poorly for the vet to help her. How do you tell her that she is never going to see her again and explain why she can't pick her up from the vets, or that the reason she isn't coming home isn't because she didn't love her.

What happens to my hair - every day - to make me look like something the cat dragged in via the rose bush before manipulating me through the cat flap. Yesterday my friend K pulled no less than 3 leaves, a twig and a feather out of it. Attractive.

If Jack Black can play any other character than Jack Black.

Why I didn't get any chocolate for Christmas. I always get chocolate for Christmas, what else am I meant to have for breakfast as I open my other presents. Honestly! What were my family thinking not getting me chocolate....so unfair. Guess I'll have to make do with the Turkish Delight.

What other women see as entertaining or enthralling by Sex and the City or reality tv for that matter. I've tried watching it...and I get nothing.

Why I seem to be the only woman in the world who wouldn't attempt to dry hump Brad Pitt's leg if I saw him in person. I've seen back end of buses that I think are more sexually appealing. Seriously. He is NOT good looking. Yuck.

Why when kids are involved nothing ever takes 5 minutes.

Why the best made plans never go according to plan.

Why people say such useful things like 'It'll all work out for the best' or 'What will be, will be' or 'Its in the past and doesn't matter now' when you're in need of advice or comfort. Lets just clear up any ambiguity here - sayings like the above aren't wise, insightful or helpful or even comforting, they are down right annoying, pointless and just a tad violence inducing. And b-r-e-a-t-h Natasha.

Why next door's cat feels the need to mutilate birds in my garden, he does have his own perfectly good well manicured and beautifully tended garden just a leap over the fence he could use.

Why its easier to talk to strangers about personal stuff. Probably because you make sure never to see or talk to them again after. Yeah that would be it.

Why chavs have to play the radio/stereo so loud in their cars? If I were driving what they are...I wouldn't be drawing attention to myself. Oh and why do they have such DIRE taste in music too? Ooo that would be me showing my age then. Good to know.

Why I bothered to work out and exercise yesterday when all I did after was sit on the sofa and eat Turkish Delight and Pita Chips...because you have the will power of a sack of potatoes and you felt like it. But only if I had to guess.

Where this habit of talking - and answering - myself came from.

Poor Judgements, Friends and the Little Voice Inside

I've come to realise that I am no longer a good judge of character.

I've never been one to make snap decisions when I first meet a person, in fact it is very rare for my instincts to scream or poke at me that there is something amiss with that person when I do.

Usually what happens is that my brow furrows and a little voice inside whispers to me that it 'isn't sure' about that person, that there is 'something about them that bothers' it, something that it 'can't put its finger on' but they should be 'kept at arms length.'

Yes I know how crazy it sounds to say that my instincts or subconscious talk to me, I can't however, think of another way of explaining it. I just know that somewhere inside of me is a voice that talks to me when I'm faced with a decision, its calm, collected and reasonable and lets me know when I'm on the right path or about to make a mistake.

Oh and it also berates, lectures, laughs and is sarcastic when I'm being precious or am peeved with life. I guess I can't have it both ways.

Recently I've been forced to accept that my choice of friends or my opinion of them has been...off. I have been made to see that some people, who I had previously liked and thought well of, are not at all who them seemed to be. They have presented themselves as one thing, saying and behaving in a nice, friendly and open manner only to reveal themselves to be...conniving, manipulating and lying individuals. I am disappointed in myself for my poor judgement.

Another 'friend' I have led me to believe that she was reliable, dependable and honest but again has proved to be otherwise. She will make dates and plans with me but often fail to turn up or keep them with no word of explanation or apology. Yet, I am expected to be sympathetic, empathetic and there for her unconditionally. I listen and give advice when it is needed and asked for ...but often she doesn't want to hear what I have to say; she wants me to do it for her. She wants an easy ride because she doesn't want to have to stand up for herself. Again I am disappointed with myself for my poor judgement.

Oh well, you live and learn I suppose.

Mute

Have you ever found yourself in a place - state of mind - that you just can't seem to get out of?

The thing is I've lost my voice. I've lost the ability to talk to people and get things off my chest. I don't trust any one any more, which is kind of a moot point because even if I did trust I still wouldn't talk ...I can't. I've lost my voice.

I don't know how to open up any more. I know holding things back creates a chasm between me and the people I love ...but...I still can't bring myself to say anything about the things that are upsetting me, the things that scare me, or the things that weigh heavy inside.

I want more than anything to be held and comforted and reassured. I need to hear that everything is going to be okay, that I've made the right choices and that I've haven't done anything wrong. I've tried taking the plunge and being honest but...the words won't come out. My tongue gets stuck to the roof of my mouth and the words, all the things that I need to say, get stuck in my throat.

I don't understand how I got here. I don't understand how I got to this place of needing closeness, of needing to reach out and be comforted yet unable to do so.

Wishes and Genes and other Hopeless Causes

I used to be very close to my extended family growing up. There were a lot of us 'cousins' running around, getting into trouble, laughing, playing, swapping clothes, having sleep overs, shopping, making hideouts and camps together, and generally growing up together.

But over the years as our lives have gone in different directions...we've grown apart and the occasions in which we get together or talk have become restricted to marriages, christenings and unfortunately funerals. it happens to us all and its something I repeatedly berate myself for and often vow to change with good intention but...life somehow gets in the way and yet another year passes by.

That said I finally got my act together and called my cousin D - I am Godmother to her daughter J - to catch up. We happily filled each other in on what's going on in our lives for the better part of nearly 45 minutes before she passed on some incredibly distressing ... I don't know what to call it...a bit of gossip, information, a rumour... about my father.

I don't talk to him and nor do I have any contact with his side of the family; they are not people that I care about or love and I don't have any interest in their lives, so there is a part of me that questions whether this topic is even worthy of blogging about...BUT I am sickened by what she's told me and I have to talk to someone. I want if off my chest, out of head before I sleep and banished to somewhere where I never have to face it or deal with it again. I want it gone.

I am not going to repeat what she told me, I can't bring myself to say it out loud out of a mixture of horror and shame. I know only bad things and have bad memories of my father so I have nothing good or complimentary to say about him. To be brutally honest - and this isn't my anger, or hurt, or even my hatred of him talking but a plain fact - I don't know of a single soul who has anything nice or good to say about him. I do not know of a single person who would or could utter a word in his defence.

Regardless, what she told me reeks of 'he said - she said' and there hasn't been any mention of proof. I'm inclined toward impassioned disinterest which makes me scoff in contempt and disbelief at the drama of it. On the outside. On the inside its a great deal more complicated than just a reaction of mocking contempt. I really don't want to believe that someone that sick, that disgusting, that twisted is my father. I don't want to be related, to have been fathered by someone ... that repulsive, that degenerate, that odious, that ...wrong on so many levels. I feel tainted and sullied by my genes.

I've spent years attempting to distance myself from my childhood. From him. Yet at moments like this I feel like there is no escape. No matter how hard I try to cut him, to cauterise him and anything associated with him from my life I discover its impossible.

I don't know what is worse...that I have heard spoken out loud - true or not - yet another of his ... I really don't know that to call it, I am totally at a loss ...or that I am not in any way surprised and can quite easily believe it of him.

Hearing her tell me has raised so many questions...can he really be that sick and twisted?...why would someone lie about it?...what does it say that so many are said to believe he is guilty?

I wish I'd never heard and I wish it didn't matter to me either which way.

Starting with the Last First

I had a conversation with my older sister L at the weekend that has been haunting me ever since.

I keep turning it over and over in mind; recalling the expression she wore, listening to her tone, paying attention to her choice of words and being mindful of what she chose not to say - the subtext.

We were driving - either to or from Lakeside to shop for my birthday present - and I recounted a conversation that I'd had with our sister T concerning mum and Christmas day. T had told me mum didn't talk for about 4 hours after I had called from the States to wish them all a Happy Christmas. She jokingly told me I'd ruined Christmas. T's words stung.

L told me mum was worried that I wasn't having a good time in the States with L's family - knowing the mother-in-law can be...prickly toward me - and was worried that I didn't want to be there.

My response was defensive - when am I not? - I told her about how the mother-in-law can and during our last visit in August very much had - been insulting, sniping, nasty, vindictive, humiliating and manipulative. I gave her an example of J's publicly humiliating me.

L's response was to listen and pause...and then tell me that if she was sensitive over everything that her partner's mother said or did to her she would be permanently sensitive. She then went on to tell me about the universal problem between mothers-sons-and their partners.

Her words stung too.

I heard all she had to say but the one word that leaped out at me was sensitive and I took it to be negative.

She could have said J was wrong to humiliate me in front of everyone or murmured something equally supportive but she didn't; she chose to label it and me as sensitive. The word by itself isn't necessarily negative but to categorise the incident and my perspective on in as sensitive is reductive. My emotions, my response to something being hurtful L has weighed, analysed and reduced down to sensitive. Oh and to a lecture that all women the world over know about the nature of the relationship between mothers and their sons and their daughter-in-laws.

So I've been thinking and dwelling on it all ...

I can appreciate that T may well have been embellishing the event - if you do the Maths LA is 8 hours behind the states and I called around lunch time LA time so it would have been 8 in the evening in the UK. So if mum, like T said, didn't talk for 4 hours it would have meant that they were up until midnight and there is no way that my family would still have been up at midnight. That however is neither here or there.

It is true that I wasn't particularly looking forward to spending Christmas in the States with his family and I did confess as much to mum. My confession was double edged; firstly it was the truth and secondly I have always felt torn between my family and my husband L, the happiness of one always seems to come at the cost of the others. Therefore I may have unintentionally got the point of my reluctance across too well.

Even if I didn't have the propensity to over-analyse everything I'm an English Literature grad student, taking things about and applying a magnifying glass to minute details and paying attention to the ripple affect surrounding relationships is what I've been trained to do.

Now all I have apparently have to learn is the ability to stop trying to please everyone, to stop being sensitive and to exercise a little censorship.

I'm going to start with the last first.

Faking It

I don't know if its the jet lag - I've had a grand total of 4 hours sleep - or L going away so soon or even a combination of both (quite likely) but I'm well and truly in a funk.

I'm anxious. I'm withdrawn. My chest and back are tight with tension. I'm binge eating rubbish food. I have zero motivation or energy and I have absolutely no desire to visit my mum - for her birthday - or see my sisters to receive my Christmas and birthday presents.

I don't even want to have to go through the rigmarole of faking happiness and pleasure. The thing that strikes me most, saddens me most I suppose, is how wrong that is. How wrong all of it is; feeling this way, hiding it and wanting to hide it, not wanting to see family.

I want all of the above to be nothing more than the fault of exhaustion, my ability to over analyse, and being upset that L is gone but...I don't believe that it really is.

When you cut yourself the cut hurts, it bleeds, it scabs and begins to heal and sometimes you're left with a scar but that's about it.

Why isn't it that easy when the hurt is emotional?

Why does the body, the heart, remember emotions that the mind wants to forget?

To Summarise...

So...its been a while since I was last here...blogging away, thinking out loud, musing to myself, trying to set my world straight etc

Somehow this feels like my first meeting with my therapist after we've both been away on holiday. I feel strangely awkward, uncomfortable, embarrassed, exposed and vulnerable. Like I'm unable to make eye contact.

But curbing my issues (for a while) so I can summarise...

I had a great holiday. It was fantastic to relax with L and to see him relaxing without his work head on. For 2 and a half weeks I got to see the old L; the one who let go of being organised, driven, preoccupied, controlling and exacting. The more he relaxed the taller he stood and more he smiled. Yes it is bitter sweet to know that I alone can't do that for him and that its spending time with his whole family - parents, sister and myself - that gives rise to this change but at least it happens and for that, regardless of who takes the credit, I'm thankful. My pity that it can't last far out weighs my desire to be the cause.

So much seems to have happened, to have changed while we were away yet when I try to list exactly what...its impossible to pin point precise details. Perhaps the changes are internal rather than external.

Truth be told we didn't really do much. We usually go on a little mini trip while we're there - San Francisco, San Diego... but this time we stayed around the house and just hung out. We lived in the moment and winged things, taking each day at a time.

Each day brought its own challenges and rewards like Ann's memorial service, meeting Olly the rescued puppy and new addition to the family, being hired as a editor for John and Barbara's book and being taken to Disney Land as a birthday surprise (be sure I'll blog about these separately).

New Year's Eve saw the whole family tucked up in bed and asleep by 22:30 undeniably laughable but I wouldn't change it for the world.

So, to summarise I've been gone a while and now I'm back, changed (outwardly and inwardly), with some trepidation and with a great deal of catching up to do in the blogging worlds that I follow.