42: So....

Today really was my last day with the team ... and I had to leave my own leaving drinks early so I would not get another drama at home!

“Sometimes ... it's better for a man just to walk away.

 But if you can't walk away?

 I guess that's when it's tough.”

Arthur Miller

41: Fuck it....

I knew things were going too well. It was at a point where I had cut down on my time at the gym, was even feeling whether I should even be doing; since the gym was part of an escape, now there was little to escape from except for little episodes.

Anyway...

Tomorrow is my last day with my old team and they have organised some drinks. They have paid for it and I've been looking forward to it for weeks. Last time I went out was in late September.

But the new team I will be joining was going out today and invited me. Considering it politic to go I asked whether it would be ok to go two nights in a row. She said yes.

Then, half way through the evening I get a phone call with some drama that I have to do this and that and have to come home. I am also told that I must be back by 7 tomorrow. And going out three nights in the week - one was at a  gym till 7:30 pm - was entirely unreasonable.

Firstly I can tell from the bloody toilet that periods have started. Secondly, as usual, she is stressed because she has left everything till the last minute. Our son's birthday is coming up and it comes - not surprisingly - at the same time every year. I had done my job in persuading him to do something easy and all she had to do was make one phone call and arrange it at a leisure centre. Now we are going away abroad for two weeks on holiday and she only gets around to doing it this week and has had to scurry round gathering invitations etc.. Washing I noted was on the washing machine, wet.

I did something I have rarely done and said that no wonder she was stressed given that she leaves everything till the last minute and doesn't start work till 6 pm. Yes, I had left a dinner plate on the table from last night which I had not moved this morning - my bad. By the way, I had only had some toast, so it was only a few crumbs at worst on the plate. It would have taken all of 10 seconds to move and, for all I care, she could have left it for me to move when I came back.

So here we are at 11:20 pm and I am having to let go of my frustrations here. But I am really procrastinating because I have to do the ironing for my son's school uniform while she has gone to sleep. I can see from the internet browsing history that a significant time has been spent browsing today but clearly it was a tiring day.

Fed up, fed up, fed up - but there is nothing I can do and no one I can turn to ..... except you, dear blog.

40: Oh boy, what a week that was.... and deeper thoughts

Well, today is Sunday and the week is ending relatively well with smiles and calm and laughter.

It started off horribly with anger and scoldings and incredibly poor behaviour on her part. 'Where does this happy and smiley M. disappear to? Where did she go earlier this week?' I asked. She did not take it badly. I suppose I am glad I did not confront her directly earlier in the week, letting the episode blow over instead. But I am conscious that I need to protect our son while acknowledging that she is the full time parent.

As it is impossible to change her, I had the opportunity to chat with our son who joined me when I had to go for a quick errand; perhaps he wanted to get out of the house as she was in one of her moods!!

'My mother always used to scold me - so don't mind it too much. Even if often it is unfair. I remember when your uncle was 19 or 20 and she had to reach up to slap him for not doing as well as he might have in his university exams!' 'Just be patient.'

But there will either be an alienation growing up or a feeling of being beaten up - not a happy choice.

There was this article in the newspaper the other day: http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/aug/30/letter-to-my-husband-who-may-be-about-to-leave

It resonated so much with me but she probably missed it and would not understand it anyway. Basically, it covers the realisation from a wife that she may  not have been entirely fair with her husband!

She was teasing me that she meets an ex-neighbour of our's every week now at some kids' activity. 'Aren't you worried that I may do something? After all, he is very handsome.' 'Be my guest,' I replied, 'we live only once and we should enjoy the time.' This was not calling her bluff in any way, I meant it but, of course she was not being serious herself. In many ways, though I cannot imagine it, I hope that she does find someone - someone who makes her happier than I appear to be able to.

It reminded me of an earlier quote in an earlier post:

I can recall a student of mine, a woman in her mid-40s, telling me a long, moving story about being 'awakened' emotionally, sexually and intellectually, when she fell in love with a friend of her husband.

What the adulterer usually wants is better relationships, conversation, support, attention, pleasure. Her question is: how can we get what we want while behaving well, which means, at least, not being ashamed of ourselves?

My student didn't wish for anything like 'total liberation' - a revolution, a new social set-up - just for a satisfying marriage. And it is worth noting about the classic heroines of literature, Anna Karenina or Madame Bovary, or even the characters in the David Lean's Brief Encounter, that they are not compulsive transgressors. They are asking for very little, and for everything, which, for them, is a fuller, more satisfying love. Complete happiness is a fiction,  but some happiness is possible; indeed, it is essential. There are some people you can 'realise' yourself in relation to, and they are worth searching out.

'When were your happiest/most content?' she asked me one day. I said when I was 17/18 and in the last two years of school. 'I was in a loving atmosphere, I was confident and calm.' 'I was surrounded by people who liked me and were kind and supportive.'

I told her about and read out to her a comment I had seen in response to an article on empty nesters:

A wife dead, a son at university. Left to chatter inanely on the Guardian website. When we are in a full flush of life we cannot imagine the barrenness of loneliness, could not put a face to the dreadful singularity. To think of those happy hours, overdrafts and family calamities, little local difficulties, the school run. It all seemed so onerous once and yet now what would I give for its return.

It is a terrible coincidence when double loss occurs in such a way and all companionship and the secret family dissipates. The house is silent save for the distant warbling of radio four. How you would long for an invitation to shopping or the delivery of the child to his friend's house. The loss of the familiar names and typical characterisations generated over years of closeness, intimacy. And those jobs you have to do, which you were told about but which remained unattended, they are now unattended forever.

You soon come to the loss of self, did I ever have an ego, I must have done. The inevitable is that life will never be the same. From the full flush of the main current you have been dropped like silt, abruptly, while life flushes on elsewhere. It was once that element of surprise, "When I was seventeen, says the child, "My father knew nothing. Now I am twenty-two I find it surprising how much he has learnt in such a short time". But even that knowledge is of little use for knowledge is nothing without employment and care and attentions moulders in self-pity. Perhaps there is a time for all of us when we should resign from life, when we are best to step aside, who knows. But the truth is that even the bad times were good. I see it all now, too late.

'That will be you when I am gone,' she said.

'No, it won't. I'll have loads of friends and loads of fun.'

'No you won't. I'll come back as a ghost and make your life a misery if you do have fun.'

Nuff said...

39: If only we realised

A beautiful and indelibly sad post from somone who must have been very brave. The full link to the article is below but the following extract (particularly para 4 below) struck me:

Charlotte has blogged on The Huffington Post UK since 2013 and sadly passed away on Tuesday 16 September from bowel cancer. She wrote one final post that she wished to share with all of her readers. We are honoured to offer it to you here.

As I write this, I am sat on the sofa, relatively pain-free and busy doing my little projects, sorting out the funeral and selling my car. We wake up every morning, grateful I can have a cuddle and kiss my babies.

As you read this, I will no longer be here. Rich will be trying to put one foot in front of the other, to get by, a day at a time, knowing I will no longer awake next to him. He will see me in the luxury of a dream, but in the harsh morning sun, the bed will be empty. He will get two cups from the cupboard, but realise there is only one coffee to make. Lucy will need someone to reach for her hairband box, but there won't be anyone to plait her hair. Danny will have lost one of his Lego policeman, but no one will know exactly which one it is or where to look. You will look for the latest update on the blog. There won't be one, this is the final chapter.

And so I leave a gaping, unjust, cruel and pointless hole, not just in Halliford Road, but in all the homes, thoughts and memories of other loved ones, friends and families. For that I am sorry. I would love to still be with you, laughing, eating my weird and latest miracle food, chatting rubbish 'Charleyisms'. I have so much life I still want to live, but know I won't have that. I want to be there for my friends as they move with their lives, see my children grow up and become old and grumpy with Rich. All these things are to be denied of me
.
But, they are not to be denied of you. So, in my absence, please, please, enjoy life. Take it by both hands, grab it, shake it and believe in every second of it. Adore your children. You have literally no idea how blessed you are to shout at them in the morning to hurry up and clean their teeth.
Embrace your loved one and if they cannot embrace you back, find someone who will. Everyone deserves to love and be loved in return. Don't settle for less. Find a job you enjoy, but don't become a slave to it. You will not have 'I wish I'd worked more' on your headstone. Dance, laugh and eat with your friends. True, honest, strong friendships are an utter blessing and a choice we get to make, rather than have to share a loyalty with because there happens to be link through blood. Choose wisely then treasure them with all the love you can muster. Surround yourself with beautiful things. Life has a lot of grey and sadness - look for that rainbow and frame it. There is beauty in everything, sometimes you just have to look a little harder to see it.

http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/charlotte-kitley/bowel-cancer-charlotte-kitley_b_5836238.html

38: Contrast

Come home with a splitting headache.

Lie down for five minutes. No asking why, let alone sympathy. 

Suitcases from holiday still not unpacked - three weeks now. 

'There's some chicken in the fridge. You will have to boil up some vegetables for him. Bring in the washing, put in basket and take to the study.' Sink is also full.  Not exactly been busy given the cleaner has been around. 'I'm off to meet the girls.'

Going out is clearly not my problem - it is the lack of work. 

37: The One that Got Away

A newspaper published a series of articles by authors on 'The One that Got Away' and also invited submissions from readers. So, here was mine:

Let me call her P.. How would I describe her to you? Think Darryl Hannah then and Gwyneth Paltrow now. Turning left at the mini-roundabout at the front of the KM Sports Centre in the late nineties, on our way to R.’s house for an evening of watching Blake’s Seven, she turned to me and said, ‘I’m sort of going out with R..’ ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘great, is he sort of going out with you?!’ ‘Yes.’

Pardon the grandiosity but I remember feeling like Steve Martin in Roxanne as Darryl Hannah praises another. Now that my life has moved on to being Kevin Spacey and American Beauty, I wonder if P. was The One.

She and I shared a house for a while, as friends. P. was generous, kind, dedicated – lovely in every way; I was an idiot. A middle class, Asian background, from a liberal and professional family. But I had seen great uncles and uncles marry German and French and American with not hugely pleasant results – perhaps shared culture was important for a lifelong relationship?

Other middle-aged, mixed marriage couples only appeared to socialise with other such couples, a sort of sub-community that felt isolated and depressing. My head full of career, wanting to ‘go back’, desiring to be a corporate high-flier; also afraid of threatening a friendship by suggesting something more.

Would it have worked out if I had overcome my fear and discovered that she felt the same affection? Close to twenty years later, I know what to look for in a relationship – support, common purpose, a haven, friendship, the confidence of doing right rather than the continuous fear of doing wrong, someone to find comfort in rather than feel lonely with. But, in their twenties, few know this and fewer still achieve that contentment. If we had stayed in the Midlands, UK, would I have, in time, resented the lack of the international career I craved? Had we moved, would she have pined for the career she would be leaving behind?

P. and I lost touch for many years as I moved countries, got married, had children but then we met up again. We meet rarely but text often. I find huge support in her and she says I am a good friend to her. Were I single I would drop at her feet to make up for lost time - if she would have me. Would I send this to her as a letter – no, for fear of threatening a friendship I value deeply. If this is published, would I send her a link? No, but, strangely enough, I might well print out and proffer on meeting next time. As a tribute, as a thank you.

Please don’t be angry with me. I love you from the bottom of my heart, wish you nothing but the best and thank you for being in my life. That evening, as we turned left, I was braver (and more of a coward) than ever before and, P., you need to see Roxanne or Cyrano de Bergerac to understand that line. Xx

Annonymous

How I dream of a week or two away with one who gives me confidence that life is ok, content and something to appreciate. A Mediterranean town maybe, meandering down cobbled streets, pool, relaxing spa, a good book, gentle talk.


Just a bit of calm

Note from December 2019: Interesting how narratives change. In browsing through old posts, I came across this - Post 125. Though I remain in love with P., even if she did reciprocate, I wonder if I will have the energy to be in a relationship. Is it possible to be the most intimate of friends and yet live independent lives? I hope so but just friendship is the most valuable.  xx

Entry 36: The Classic Line – you could at least do something

This at the end of a week where she has not woken up once before 10 am, where she has been responsible for two meals only, I have cleared the dishwasher umpteen times, we have been out for dinner and the theatre, she has gone to a party on her own, I have looked after our son from clothes to meals to playing football for hours.

She has loaded and unloaded the washing machine. She has put the clothes out to dry. But when I began to take them upstairs from the sitting room, ‘don’t do that – you don’t know how to fold. I’m going to them in an order.’ They are still there three days later.

The reason for the line?

One chair had not been moved from one room to another. Fair enough – I forgot.

Once more she was stressed because she had spent all day basically doing nothing but had to get books and pencils ready for the start of the new term. And, of course, stuff that other people – like other mums – will see has been done immaculately. The role model of efficiency to all but those at home.

Tired and looking forward to next summer already. How do I make the change?