NYE and we’re all looking into the future – but the past is part of that. No matter how hard Eckhart Tolle preaches (and I do listen, honest), we/I cannot isolate the two.
So, what am I? I am a writer – freelance and seeking that perfect job, rather than small short term contracts. I am as poor as a church mouse, but that will get sorted in time. I am a student – studying hard and faking cleverness. I am owned by the most stunning and wonderful dogs. I am creative – I have ideas to paint again, but am too scared nowadays to put brush to canvas – words are my safe medium, with no judgement necessary.
I had an abusive childhood – not physically, just lacking in the love and understanding that an adopted child needs. I was locked in my room for hours at a time, I wasn’t hugged, or listened to. I was judged as unintelligent and backward because I took so long learning to read; the school thought I was ‘retarded’, and my parents never questioned it, never had/took the time to learn what interested me, what made me happy, what gave me the security that I lacked so badly. An ‘artistic’ personality in an academic household – round peg in a square hole!
I had abusive relationships – both physically and mentally, that left me lost and longing, but feeling it was all I deserved; worthless and unlovable, not knowing what ‘normal’ love is, without that desperately sick feeling of need, of needing another person next to me, looking after me.
Now, I am here – three years after the Big Break Up; three years on my own (apart from occasional men) with my dogs. It still amazes me that I am capable of doing even the smallest thing – I take pleasure in hoovering my lovely rented cottage. I am not criticised over the smallest thing. I wash up, despite the dishwasher in the corner, because it’s something I can do. I look at my books – they are all mine, collected in the last three years (I left with nothing). I smile at the paintings hung on the walls – not done by me, but one day maybe.
I lie in my bed at night, cosy with the lamp on, snuggled under the duvet, with a cat curled up on the pillow next to mine, and the dogs snoring in the next room, and am content.
I still panic at the slightest thing – a phone call or bill can send me spiraling out of control; a complicated instruction can confuse the hell out of me. I panic that I won’t have enough money left at the end of the month. That, because I put things off until the last possible minute, I’ll run out of medication, and the dark will take back what it once owned fully.
But, I’m sitting here, with three writing contracts to complete, one dog softly asleep in the kitchen, the other by my feet, the house warming after the night’s chill, and coffee on the go, and I can smile, pushing any worries away for now.
2017 will be my year to shine!