Ooh look! Something shiny! And with that she was gone for nearly 2 years.
Ahem. I realise that I am now talking to myself and the big void of space that lies beyond this post but hey ho, here we go. Again. After a somewhat prolonged absence. I think it was the glitter, it got in my hair, in my eyes and other, weirder, places and it took me so long to get rid of it that, well, etc.
So what have I been doing with myself for these last 2 years? I honestly couldn’t tell you. The only thing I know for sure is that my then 5.5 yr old, is now a wild and excitable 7 yr old and my then 2 yr old is now a cantankerous wee beastie of a 3.5 year old, mostly dressed up like a pirate (fairy wings optional), who enjoys shooting people through their eyeballs. Still, rather than banging on about all the things I seem to have banged on endlessly about for the last 7 years, I’m going to give it a rest. At least for this post. Just know this, motherhood is like raw cheesecake, it looks all lovely on the outside but ultimately you are chewing through a big bag of nuts.
In the last 2 years of not writing here, I have done many things none of which seem at all important right now. I’ve half knitted many things and then left them so long that I no longer know how to finish knitting them. I have sewn things that are almost wearable. I have negotiated people I love no longer loving each other and dwelt in the sadness of that. I have wondered if things will ever change or if I should quietly acquiesce to the inevitable. I know how to hold on but I just don’t want to be that guy in the corner with the saxophone who doesn’t know when to quit. I have started study and stopped study, despite doing exceptionally well – toot toot!, because I’m not sure what my heart wants. And I have tried to sit with what my heart wants while my life rages around me. You can tell Adele that setting fire to the rain is a snap after that.
What Women Want – is not a man that fulfills all their unspoken desires, it is to know what their own unique and vulnerable heart wants. Plus maybe enough courage to follow it, even if it’s not pretty. I fear the not pretty. I’ve been balls deep in the not pretty and I have no desire to go there again, but the heart wants what the heart wants, as someone famous and obviously forgettable, once sagely said. It seems that, for me at least, talking endlessly about my problems does not get me to what my heart wants (blog notwithstanding). I want to listen to my heart talk, not my neuroses. There are many good books out there I’m sure that deal with exactly this and I’m sure they would be helpful but I don’t have time to read books. I’m too busy fighting the fires of motherhood on the nature/nurture frontline to sit down. Plus my hair is singed and it smells weird.
So I am looking forward to slowly dropping into the dark mossy goodness of Autumn in the Southern Hemisphere because I know that with the Autumn and Winter, my favourite two seasons, will come answers. (Or at the very least open fires and mulled wine – answers enough for some. And by some, I mean me.) They won’t be BIG, LOUD, DEFINITIVE answers, they will be teeny, tiny nudges to do more of something or less. To pay attention to the questions that pour from this bloody wound I call my heart, to follow the signs or maybe simply allow the questions to hollow me out until I remember who and what I am. I doubt any of it will be easy. I seem to be hardwired towards doing things the hard way. I just know that in the last two years not much has changed, so it must be time to change the things I’m doing.
And with that, I am here.