What happened?

God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.  ~William Shakespeare

My little sister wrote a note about me on Facebook today. She's 18. She wrote about how much she admired me, how much she used to (and still does) want to be like me....

i remember sneaking in to your room when you were out of the house back when i used to visit you and Daddy over the holidays. I thought you were the coolest, most creative person on the face of the planet! The glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, the handwritten poems on the wall, all the old bottles you kept as candle holders. Your room became the best room in the house for me: not only was it filled with the most fascinating things, but also because i hoped that the longer i sat at your desk, the more i read your poems, the longer i listened to your Lauryn Hill cd, the more i would become like you. To me the ultimate compliment was "You have the same laugh as your sister" As soon as i had a steady hand i would paint my nails dark blue with white spots, the way i had seen you do. I started collecting teddy bears because of the three that stayed on your bed well into your varsity years. I still want to be just like you when im older. My awe over you has not faded through the years. Beauty, kindness, creativity. Forever the coolest big sister.

I was transported. Instantly. To a time that now seems so long ago. To a me that now seems so far away. But I was also forced to ask some questions (as I so often do), "Was it all really so long ago and far away?" "What's really changed?". I'm still me... right? Apart from the job, the bills, the kid, the husband... I'm still me. Or am I? Should I be? Never I was more confident, never happier, never more sure of anything than I was back then. That can only be good. Right?

It's the perennial paradox of my 'adult' life... being the same, while being so different. How does that happen? What switch did I flip? WTF happened?? Why shouldn't I still have poems on my wall, and glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling? Why shouldn't I still be the same big sister that sparked a little girl's imagination and filled her with the possibilities of all that can be - with a little faith in yourself and a little strength of your convictions?

I'm older. I know more. And yet, never have I felt smaller and less sure.

Back then, I wasn't afraid to be wrong. I wasn't afraid to live... because life was all I had. The raw experience of it; the heady intoxication of it. Alive and in the moment was the only way to be.

Fuck fear! Fuck propriety! Fuck me... I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing!

Feels good to be back!

Love one another and you will be happy.  It's as simple and as difficult as that.  ~Michael Leunig

The Mr and I are... well, wonderful - to be frank.

Little Tyke is gone again, and this time it feels like we are doing it right. We're taking advantage and making the most of it. It almost feels like we're dating again.. fun, spontaneity, can't-get-enough-of-each-other-ness. It's back and it's strong. Part of me feels like I should be ashamed/embarrassed that it's the departure of our son that has spurred this on. But I'm done with that. I'm done with guilt. I'm done with denying myself the right to feel good about what's good in my life.

We are blessed. Blessed to have parents (and in-laws) that are there for us and willing to do what they can to help us out. Blessed to know that although our son is not with us, he's in a place of love. Blessed to have the opportunity to almost start again; get ourselves right before we have our baby (back again). What is there to be ashamed of there? The only room for shame is ahead of us - in assessing, at the end of it all, how well we've used this opportunity we've been given. Will we be better parents? Will we be better spouses? Will we be better people? For now, all I see are blessings and we should be - above all - grateful for them.

I've rarely (if ever) been filled with such a sense of power over my own destiny. I've known it for a long time, and anyone who's *ever* read this blog can testify to that, but now I see it. I feel it - definitively and conclusively. I've decided to stop being afraid and start being free. It's already working. By changing me, I've seen (albiet in very small ways so far) how much I can change my life.

When it comes to me and The Mr, I guess I just never truly realised just how big a contribution I've been making to whatever inadequacies I felt there were in our marriage. But I'm done with that too. I know what I want and I know it's possible because that's where we started off to begin with. There's a reason why I married that man and why he married me, and I think we're finding each other again. But we're finding each other as a married couple in 2010, instead of trying to be the girlfriend and boyfriend we were in '05.

What really blows my mind, though, is that as different as 'we' are now, we are actually still the exact same people. We spent the whole of yesterday just drinking vodka and listening to music and talking, then lying in bed and watching movies... just the two of us. That's exactly how we used to spend our days when we were dating - sharing the things we love (including each other!). What felt great was it wasn't some pre-planned 'date night' that all the experts say married couples should have. It was two people who absolutely love each other's company just having a good time.

It made me realise how much time I used to spend longing for what was instead of living what is. It's been here all along, I just didn't recognise it because it doesn't look the same as it did five years ago. It's actually better!

Here we (she) go (comes)

I told my mother-in-law that my house was her house, and she said, "Get the hell off my property."  ~Joan Rivers

She's coming again... Oh god! Not again.

I look at the smudges and tiny fingerprints on my windows, the build-up of dust on the propellers of my fan, the toy that's fallen behind the TV stand, the tangle of wires in my study and I know I will be judged on each and every one of them. I know it won't matter that I was going to get around to them. It won't be an indication of how busy and tired and stressed I've been - only exhibits A, B, C and D in proving the prosecution's case... in proving that I'm simply not good enough for her son.

Dread. I'm filled with it. I can never be comfortable when she's around. Four years of marriage later and I'm still so concerned about the impression I make. Wondering "what's expected of me" and "am I doing it"? Should I be waking up at 4am everyday like she does; toiling over a hot stove for hours at a time; on my hands and knees tackling wall-skirting grime?

It really grates me that, as a guest in my house, she never just goes with the flow of my household. Her way is not the way we do things; but by her every action she sends a constant and succinct message that, as far as she's concerned, it sure as hell should be. If that's not judgement, I don't know what is.

It doesn't help that - yet again - the visit coincides with the sudden departure of my son. There's a very dangerous association developing there - which I will choose to ignore for the moment (got enough psychological baggage to deal with as it is).

Four days to go 'til she arrives... *Cue deep, heavy sigh*

...full circle...

The Present is a Point just passed.  ~David Russell

I read today that time is like the wind - it lifts the light and leaves the heavy.

I've come full circle... back to the point from which I started. And yet there's been so much in between - so much that I could have never predicted I'd be back to facing the prospect of my son living away from me. I could have never guessed that I'd be trying (again) to start over with The Mr. I could never have imagined I'd be back here again.

For no other reason than that there's been so much in between...

And now that I'm standing on the other side, all I know is that I've always known it - everything that I needed to know I already knew. Maybe there is something to be said for being dragged through hellfire. Maybe we really do need to come face-to-face with everything we never thought we'd survive just so we know that we can. Maybe that's the push we need to stop surviving and start living. I pray only that is what it is for me, because if I ever had to re-live the past 3 months again... then I just wouldn't know anything anymore.

But the best thing about coming full circle, is that coming to the beginning means you've finally reached the end. And, even better, reaching the end means another beginning. Onward. I am blessed to be given a chance to do it again and I pray that I for as long as I am able, I will always chose to do it again, and do it better with each turn.

Fair is fair

It is the spirit and not the form of law that keeps justice alive.  ~Earl Warren

Sometimes I just want to run away. It gets too much. I feel like I hate my life; like I could have done so much better. But now it's too late. I'm stuck. Trapped.

I hate it when those days come around.

I hate feeling like I want to run away from my husband; from my child. They don't deserve it. And it's definitely not because of them that I feel that way. I saw it in The Mr's eyes today. He had seen it in me. The last time that happened, was also the first time I'd ever heard him even hint at 'forever' not actually happening for us. It scares me, because it controls me. When it takes hold, it's this overwhelming destructive force - laying waste to everything in its wake.

I'm watching him pace around the house as I write this. Tension hovering between us. I still feel the feelings, but I've come far enough to at least recognise them now. I at least know enough stop it. I can not; will not make my family casualties of the internal battle that rages in my own mind.

It's just not fair.