Oh, dear reader, I am spoiling you this week. Today's blog comes out of a great deal of thinking and wondering and is more like a stream of consciousness than anything else. It is mostly addressing the truth of being a singleton with too much time to think!
I don't know about everyone else but after each break up I always find myself raking over the coals of every bad relationship to find the common ground, what I did wrong, how I can change, what I need to be careful of in the future....the usual. However, I also find myself thinking back to the dreaded one person who can answer these questions. The one who got away. Now, I have no idea if I am alone in this situation, there is one man who I hold no bad will to what so ever, who I genuinely wish nothing but good things for, but is also the one person who could make me ditch everyone and everything to run away with him. Is this normal? I highly doubt it.
This person has been in and out of my life for more years than I care to mention and we speak to this day. When my relationship ended he checked in on me and I asked the usual questions...and the answers surprised me. I asked if I could have been a better girlfriend, a better person, if there is something wrong with me. He responded that no, none of those things would have changed the fact I just wasn't suited to my ex and he followed this up with "He is an idiot, you are amazing" or words to that effect.
Now, lovely reader, I can hear you thinking "If he is so perfect why aren't the two of you together?" the answer to that is simple. The cards simply never lined up for us. One or other of us was in some unsuitable relationship or another, one or other of us moved away, but above all else.....one of us never spoke up. If I hadn't been so scared to say how I really felt things might have been different. If he had been brave enough to ask, I would have said what I should have. We once had an indoor picnic just because we fancied it, it was awesome. We used to wonder the high street on a Sunday because we could and time together was never awkward or a struggle. We are a year apart in age almost to the day, we once joked that whatever we were doing and wherever we were in the world on his 60th birthday we would fly to Vegas and meet outside the Bellagio....Before Sunset style.
I don't know what made me want to write about him today..... maybe it's my way of acknowledging that a door has closed and won't open again. Maybe it's just nice to commit it all to some kind of written log, so that if I end up like my Nana I can read it back and remember. Maybe it's just to thank him, if he ever reads this, for being someone who still makes me smile and to thank him for still being there.
Thursday, 19 May 2016
Sunday, 15 May 2016
This is what it sounds like, when doves cry....
It's been a long time, welcome back. People assumed that because I hadn't written for so long, things must be better. Not true. Every single aspect of my life has deteriorated massively, with the exception of my friends. They remain, as ever, a constant source of love and support. I have struggled with what to write about, so here is my latest offering.
My Nana has suffered from Alzheimer's for many years now. It was actually me who first spotted it and I was relentless in my insistence that something was wrong. My grandmother was a beautiful, supportive, loving, creative, welcoming and spirited woman. She had a hard start in life but she never let it break her. Every school holiday my sister and I would stay with her and Grandad and it was Nana who took us for adventures, always thinking of cheap and cheerful ways to make our time together special. This woman made trips to the library the single most exciting highlight of the week with her enthusiasm.
My Nana was social, dragging Grandad to an endless round of clubs, dinners, dances and lectures. He hated it but went because of her ability to see everything seems like it was amazing. She collected Owl's she had dozens of the things in all shapes and sizes and my sister has carried this tradition forward. She made a patchwork quilt, something I cherish so much I keep it in a plastic box , scared it may dissolve or break.
One thing my Nana was also good at was making people feel good. It was like a sixth sense, if you felt chubby she would mention how slim you look, if you were having a bad hair day she would tell you how fabulous your hair looked. I miss that.
Today I spent time with Nana in A&E. She was terrified, screaming for help. I was a stranger in her eyes, one she deemed "ugly, lazy, useless.....I wish you were dead!" Now, I know she didn't mean it. When she calmed down after five hours of abuse she told me I was "kind and good" so why can I only remember the harshness of her words? The moment I felt like she could read my mind and turn my innermost thoughts about myself into real, tangible words? I hope my Nana isn't scared tonight, in a world familiar but unfamiliar all at once. I hope she isn't in pain. I hope when I see her next she babbles happily and blows me kisses.
I hope I can forget what she said. Above all, I hope I can remember that maybe.... she didn't mean it.
My Nana has suffered from Alzheimer's for many years now. It was actually me who first spotted it and I was relentless in my insistence that something was wrong. My grandmother was a beautiful, supportive, loving, creative, welcoming and spirited woman. She had a hard start in life but she never let it break her. Every school holiday my sister and I would stay with her and Grandad and it was Nana who took us for adventures, always thinking of cheap and cheerful ways to make our time together special. This woman made trips to the library the single most exciting highlight of the week with her enthusiasm.
My Nana was social, dragging Grandad to an endless round of clubs, dinners, dances and lectures. He hated it but went because of her ability to see everything seems like it was amazing. She collected Owl's she had dozens of the things in all shapes and sizes and my sister has carried this tradition forward. She made a patchwork quilt, something I cherish so much I keep it in a plastic box , scared it may dissolve or break.
One thing my Nana was also good at was making people feel good. It was like a sixth sense, if you felt chubby she would mention how slim you look, if you were having a bad hair day she would tell you how fabulous your hair looked. I miss that.
Today I spent time with Nana in A&E. She was terrified, screaming for help. I was a stranger in her eyes, one she deemed "ugly, lazy, useless.....I wish you were dead!" Now, I know she didn't mean it. When she calmed down after five hours of abuse she told me I was "kind and good" so why can I only remember the harshness of her words? The moment I felt like she could read my mind and turn my innermost thoughts about myself into real, tangible words? I hope my Nana isn't scared tonight, in a world familiar but unfamiliar all at once. I hope she isn't in pain. I hope when I see her next she babbles happily and blows me kisses.
I hope I can forget what she said. Above all, I hope I can remember that maybe.... she didn't mean it.
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