I’ve developed a habit of having the telly on in the background for what I called “white noise”. I’m not sure when it started. I now feel uncomfortable when it’s quiet.
I used to adore the quiet, when I could be alone with my thoughts. I was happy to just doodle, or write in my journal (which I probably need to start doing properly again). I remember the enjoyment I felt, just sitting outside and feeling the breeze. I loved just sitting in the library and just letting the silence wash over me.
I think I started fearing the quiet because I became conditioned to think that the quiet happened when I did something wrong. Company, presence, conversation and affection were withdrawn when I did something that was deemed unacceptable. It was my punishment and a reckoning would happen when I made a noise. I’m not describing getting hurt physically. It was just I would be inundated with past recriminations and past infractions. Sometimes, that feels worse than being hit. Because words stay with you.
I need to learn to appreciate the quiet again. To learn to just be. To learn to be in the moment. To know that the quiet doesn’t mean that you did something wrong. To know that when things are quiet it means you can relax.
It’s a new year. And in the new year, we (usually) make these grandiose resolutions of wanting to better, healthier, fitter (some of us take out a gym membership!), more successful, more prosperous, an improved version of our previous selves; we want to make a change.
I’m not any different. I started to make my list of my new year resolutions last night, in the run up to midight. Then I remembered: I don’t have to. I already have a list. Because, really, what are resolutions but a guide for the things we want for ourselves, what we want to improve, right?
2022 was a year of seismic change for me. It was like someone took the tray that had everything I found familiar and safe and turned it upside down. I was recovering from my father’s death and I found myself confronted with the bomb site that was my life, surrounded by debris that looked familiar. There were items that I thought looked and felt familiar, or resembled things that I thought I knew, that no longer provided the same sense of security that they used to. I had to face the end of a relationship that I thought would never end – a relationship that defined my identity, my sense of self and, I thought, my future.
I suppose it was a long time coming. When you lose yourself in something, when you make impossible compromises (you know the ones, the ones where you do things because you think you’re doing it in the name of love), when you accept treatment that you otherwise wouldn’t (because, again, love), when you make adjustments in the name of being understanding (because you feel you have more capacity to understand), when you think it’s okay to settle because you think this is your lot, you made a decision, so you live with it.
It takes a life event of disaster proportions to make you see things from a different and possibly a clearer perspective. In my case, it was the end of a more-than-2-decade-long relationship for me to reevaluate everything. I guess from a making-a-change perspective, it was good that I was forced to do all these reevaluations from a different location. I was alone and I had to confront all the compromises and decisions I’d made to date. And it looked awful. I’m not blaming anyone else. I made those decisions. To paraphrase a once-favourite Wilson Phillips song, I’ve got no one to blame for my unhappiness, I got myself into my own mess. I contributed to the majority of the nuclear explosion that changed my life.
But, still thinking about that Wilson Phillips song, I am holding on. Because I know that things will change. Because now, I recognise the person in the mirror again. I recognise the person talking again. I’m learning from the experiences and I am coming out knowing who I am, grateful because I know I am so very blessed, learning the lessons and not settling for the bare minimum ever again.
I am a work in progress and I have a long way to go. But I am taking it a day at a time, a step at a time.
I am ready for the challenges that 2023 will bring because I know my God has me in the palm of His hands, I have people who truly love me supporting me and rooting for me.
I won’t have to edit who I am anymore.
I am walking forward being truly and authentically me!
I’ve been back from my Manila trip for a week now but I’m still feeling exhausted.
But apart from the jet lag, I’ve been battling with a lot of stuff. I think that’s why I’m feeling really drained. Also, during the trip to Manila, I found out that I lost at least 20 kilograms!
For those of you seasoned travellers, how to do you get over jet lag? My strategy is to through as much caffeine at it as I can during the time that I’m supposed to be awake. I’m not sure it’s working.
The dressings have come off today. Well, I took them off today. I took off the dressing and cleaned off the caked blood.
I won’t post a photo of the wound and the stitches because that would be slightly morbid and very macabre. But the wound site looks good. It looks like it’s healing well and there seems to be, knock on wood, no signs of infection.
And now I am going to attempt something I have no way of knowing whether or not I can accomplish: ironing and all the work that goes with it (getting the iron out of the cupboard is going to be a particular challenge!).
Yellywelly 