Monkey's Wedding

Have you ever wondered what happens to the good time girls when they stumble haplessly into the bad times?

Speaking from personal experience, the first thing I noticed was that the phone stopped ringing.  No invites to meals, drinks, parties, outings from that extended group of friends who formed my wide and lively social circle.

Then I thought – hang on. The phone never rang at this end anyway. This was me, organising all this stuff, jollying everyone along, booking up the holidays, sorting out the picnics, throwing the parties, buying the cinema tickets, phoning out for the takeaways, firing up the barbecue.  After 15 years of being the life and soul for a group of local mums and dads, you’d think I could live off the return matches for a good few years, wouldn’t you.

Not a bit of it. Of the dozens of people who attended all our last 10 years of New Year parties, not a single one of them invited us to them this time, when we didn’t feel like organising one.  I thought about it a bit harder and counted up quite a few couples who had been over to ours for supper five or ten times, and never so much as invited us back for tea and biscuits.

And that’s not even counting the person I formerly counted as good friend who thought that our family difficulties would present the perfect opportunity to make a play for my husband – in my own kitchen while I was serving them dinner! It would be funny if it wasn’t so disappointing. Whatever happened to the sisterhood?

The second thing I noticed was that people who specifically wanted to hang out with a good time girl have no idea what to say when they ask you how things are and you actually tell them. Blimey they didn’t sign up for all this heavy shit. So who can blame them for quietly slinking off to hang out with someone chirpier, cheerier? All this angst and suicide and depression was never part of the deal.

The most important thing, though, is that a time like this sorts the wheat from the chaff.  There’s that tiny handful, the Golden People, who are the ones that do keep ringing. And texting. And emailing. And coming round, or dragging me outdoors.  Who drove us to hospital. Who had us over for New Year. Who drove over from France. Who have looked after my darling but oh-so-troubled daughter, even though it scares the bejesus out of them to shoulder that responsibility.  It wasn’t a surprise – I knew these people would be the ones to do this. They are my four corners, they hold me up, make sure I don’t fall when I need to stay standing.  I wonder why I ever spent time with anyone else. 

And there have been surprises too. People who I thought were business contacts rather than personal friends, who noticed I was not myself, and wrote notes, sent flowers, took me out for coffee and lunch and offered support – without prying, without even asking what the trouble was, just seeing I could do with some support. Bear in mind I put on a damn good show, so it wouldn’t have been easy to spot that I was drowning not waving.  And people I thought were acquaintances at the other end of a flirt or a tweet, who reached out a hand of friendship, totally unexpectedly.

I guess it has to be raining before you can see rainbows.

Carcassonne

How important is authenticity?

Eugene Viollet-le-Duc was born 200 years ago today. Not many British people would have heard of him before he was honoured with a rather fine Google-doodle, but his work is the cause of much controversy amongst historians and architects.

When he was restoring the city of Carcassonne (and Notre Dame, for that matter) he decided to add a number of new features: modifications, improvements or just plain whimsy, depending on your point of view. Some people think this is an outrage, but I suspect most visitors are not architectural historians and find the place simply gorgeous.

If you were rebuilding something that was all broken  -  a family, say, or a marriage  -  I guess you're not necessarily obliged to try and recreate it the way it was. Times may have moved on so why not incorporate new ideas, new features? I don't suppose there's any law that says things have to go back exactly the way the were, and since we can only move onwards not backwards in life, why not ditch the parts we don't like, and bring in some improvements? 

Part of the decision involves the initial assessment - whether the construction is a write-off, beyond economic repair, or whether it's storm damage, nothing that a few new windows and a lick of paint won't sort out. 

If your building, your city, your life is no longer fit for purpose, there are a number of options. These include: move to a new location; rebuild to the original plan, recycling as many of the existing materials as possible; clear the ground and build something completely new and different.

Unfortunately in this, as in so many decisions, there are no easy answers. Opinions are divided as to what is right, best, appropriate. But people are often happier with a charming, fake version of life than a dirtier, more difficult authentic reality. Carcassonne is as lovely as you hoped it would be, and you don't really mind that it isn't "real".

Sky Falling

The sun is shining with a cold, false-friend brightness that hurts at the back of the eyes. The sky is a fake, flat blue, everything else is brown and grey. The railway spools its clickety-clack tentacles all the way from one meeting to the next and nothing seems to matter as much as lying down on the bed. Sleep, though, is a cock-tease, playing with me all day then disappearing just at the critical moment. The sheets are too cold, then too hot. Time reels back a year and we’re still in the same place, all of us: pointless in a courtroom with money draining away, driving around the corner and seeing her up in the window, looping the curtain cord over her head and kicking the chair…… Life now, such as it is, forever the jump from the still-moving car, the howl of her name and the running upstairs – over and over and over.  I am always too late to catch her, however many times the film loops its repeat. Always not there when she needed me, always finding her lying still on the floor, lying unconscious in the hospital bed, always too late. Rumer has stolen Karen Carpenter’s voice and asks again and again to be forgiven.  Someone needs to tell that girl to stop singing: there is no forgiveness to be found.

Not Waving

I tried so hard last week – and for a while it worked, I think. I put on a good show all round. I saw people and did things that made me smile. I felt human, I felt as if I had a life of my own outside this cage.

This week I feel as if that was all the energy I had, putting on the good face just for those few days.  The anniversary of my little one’s first attempted suicide is approaching this weekend and I have such a sense of impending horror I am being stifled by it. 

I am overwhelmed by my life, the heaviness of it, the sucking heavy mud pulling pulling pulling me down.  I can’t remember what you’re supposed to do. Struggling, fighting, that sinks you down, doesn’t it? Staying still and keeping calm, that doesn’t stop the inexorable dragging under either.  There doesn’t seem to be anything to hold on to, nothing solid to anchor me.

I am cold. I am sinking.

Instructions for Living

Bollocks to all these self-help books. Adults have no bloody idea how to live their lives - just look at us, for heaven's sake. What a mess.

I am going to take all my advice from 6 year olds in future. Here is the instruction list two friends made.

How To Fall In Love

1. First you stare at the person.
2. You get close to each other.
3. You ask for a date.
4. You go to bed and do sex.
5. When you kiss you suck and lick.
6. Get nacked in bed and do more sex.
7. -
8. Go dance and put your noses together.
9. -
10. Then kiss forever.
11. Take a shower together and kiss.
12. Give each other rings.
13. Go to the pool together.

Yep. I think that has everything covered.  Steps 14-24 are blank - as they should be. It's all downhill after you get back from the pool.

Moon of Alabama

When is the right time to say goodbye? And when is it better to stay and face the music (even if dancing can't be contemplated)? Only hindsight makes sense of the actions we take  -  we overlay a skin of meaning onto the bones of the facts, pull it into shape and fashion it into a body of evidence. Posthumous, but nonetheless convincing. 

I'm still deciding. So come on and let me know: should I stay or should I go? 

Music always has the answer. Is it to be Stay (just a little bit longer)? Go, walk out the door (and survive)? Or Burning down the house? Je ne regrette rien.

Lure

This is it - the path. This is how it looks in winter. This year I will walk it. 

I know I have said this before. I've said so on this very blog, in fact.  And if I am going to be kind to myself, I had better start by keeping my own commitments to myself, particularly when they are basic, free-of-charge, uncomplicated activities that will be enjoyable and healthy like this. What I really mean by all that waffle is, why couldn't I have given myself a couple of hours off, some time over the last nearly 4 years (4 years!!) to go for this walk? I don't think I am kind to myself at all. 

This week I have Tried Harder. I spent time with friends (hardly a trial, of course, but I had to allow myself to "deserve" that time).  I tried hard with my husband (and believe me this is very trying indeed). I went on a Mummy-Daughter date, supper and a night in a hotel in London. And this afternoon while I wait for her to finish dancing, I have been for a wonderful facial in a Thai spa I found on the internet, and am now writing. 

It will be very hard to get used to having time for myself that does not involve running around doing things for other people. 

But I Asked For Help, and help was forthcoming. Of course it was, my friends are wonderful (well, most of them, with notable exceptions but let's not go there for now). The writing is creaking into gear, I am on my fourth poem of the year, and it's only Week 2 of my 52 Challenge.  One of my poems was about the path. 

I am going to get off the clickety-clack of this railway existence and walk up that hillside. Yes I am. 

Fresh

I have to find a way to live my life as it is. The meaningful changes I would like to make cannot be made at this point - I am a mother before anything, and I need to do what is best for my children.

Thus I have made some New Year Resolutions and I have been trying to stick to them. 

Be kind to myself: life and other people are throwing rocks at me, I don't need to help them out by beating myself up.  I am going to try and talk myself up instead. I have a continual inner voice constantly talking me down, so this will be a real challenge.

Write: I have signed up to an initiative to write a poem a week (I'm ahead of the game as I've already written two).  I will organise my material and submit more of it for publication, see if I can raise my game a bit. This will give me something purposeful to do now that I have to spend so much time at home. I am also going to write other things. This blog for a start (expect to see all sorts of writing on here going forward, sorry it's been such a wrist-slitter lately).  Crack on with the novel. Maybe also a work-blog - I have set this up on the company website, all I need to do now is blurt some opinions on topical issues. I'll need to give a shit first, I guess.

Get fitter: notice this is a relative objective.  I need fresh air and walks and to keep myself moving. It's always hard for me, as I fight my body's natural urge to chub, and I would rather sit on the sofa with a glass of red and a good book than go for a run, any day.  However I am going to try. Harder than I have so far this year, otherwise this aim will be over before it's even begun. 

Yesterday for instance, I started well. Had Fruit & Fibre and a coffee for breakfast. Planned to go for a run later in the day.  Then had a very distressing therapy appointment with Ultra High Risk Daughter. The day was derailed after that. For lunch I had a samosa, a bag of Cheddars and a Star Bar. Then I had a bag of crisps later on.  For supper I made a leek and mushroom risotto (quite healthy) but ate some pate with crackers while I was making it.  Then I had four Thorntons Continentals in bed. Today I will do better (see? I am still able to be optimistic, that must be a good thing). 

I realised I needed to do something very important that I have rarely if ever done before. I understood that I can't struggle on being this lonely, feeling so alone. So I took a lifesaving step: Ask for help. Wow! Yes, I know! So proud of myself. I contacted the people who are important to me, reached out to them. This might sound easy but believe me, it's a huge step. I don't feel like talking to anyone, any time, as I don't feel I have anything to offer them. I'm the life and soul, right? I'm the party organiser, the drinker, the fixer, the sorter, the fun-times girl.  No one wants to see me white-faced, silent with panic, beaten by my spectacular failure to build a happy family. Do they? 

Actually maybe they do. I think I might have been underestimating my friends. Times like this sort the wheat from the chaff, for sure. And the people who are left are the golden ones, and just sitting with their glow will help me feel better.  I hope.