Maybe a consistent theme of my life is starting off as an emotional blank page, having no idea what people are on about and then later on thinking ‘oh, so THAT’s what it must have felt like!’.
Normal Deviations has pointed out on his blog that I’m not always happy. So doing a little introspection, I went for a walk and thought, aren’t I happy? And why not?
Much of the time, I AM happy. I live in heaven (or at least, fairyland). My children are lovely and loving, as are my three dogs and my little grey purring cat. I’m not working in the land of the living dead (ie for the government). I’m writing.
To the extent that I’m NOT happy, maybe it’s because of ‘him’ – and it is wearing off. I can’t understand the effect – some complicated chemical reaction in the brain, I guess – but I can feel it. This was someone I loved more than anyone (except maybe my cat). Eventually I realised that he was an incurable liar, cruel, egocentric, an actor who couldn’t stop acting even when the lights went down. Worse than that, I realised that he was, in a way, stupid. What else do you call it when someone can’t look outside themselves to see the inevitable effects of what they’re doing, when someone can’t understand you no matter how you try to explain, but falls back on tired clichés like ‘I suppose you’re a saint, then!’ and ‘women are always trying to control me’. More than anything in this world, I get tired of stupid people, people who refuse to really see, hear, think.
And there you have it, the two reasons why I’m not entirely happy. One, I realised that the man I once loved was a poor deformed thing who tried to suck the life out of me and almost succeeded – I’m still licking my wounds. I know he loved me and didn’t want to lose me. I know he was in many ways a thing of beauty. I know that living with a disability aint easy, even if it’s a moral/emotional one. I’m tempted to say he couldn’t help it, being what he was, but he could. We all can. And two, my inability to find, not a partner (there are beautiful men available) but someone who is able to know me, who can meet me on my own terms. I’ll end up compromising for cuddles, but I feel wistful. Where’s the person who can finish MY sentences…..
Oh, and here’s Fairyland. Again. Could anyone NOT be happy here?