Being More

I didn’t think I would want to write this morning. But I do.
Yesterday felt tough. I didn’t have any help at all. I moved the whole lot by myself. Carrying a million bags down the stairs and then out to the car and then carrying every single one from the car into the flat.
No one even held a door for me.
And I thought to myself who does it say more about. Me or them. The fact that I am just quietly getting on with it without saying a word or them in not having the decency or care to help or even offer to.
Who is the idiot. Who is the loser.
Just before I started and I stood outside smoking a cigarette a white feather floated over to my feet.
I’m a big believer in white feathers. Having just been speaking about this person two minutes before I knew they were with me.
That permission they gave me allowed me to experience the happiest and most purely beautiful moments of my life. That white feather felt like am acknowledgement that I had my time of trying to be everything I could be and now needed to work hard for that privilege.
I felt it from the moment I stepped back through the door. It was overwhelming. Like a wave of relief from others that I was there to pick up where I left off. Can you check us in on our flights?
How has anything functioned for 2 years?
I know how. My girl. Who is tired of being me.
I get it. It’s not her job as I told her many times. But she has been through my school of care. In fact it’s noones job but let’s not run before we can walk. This requires patience .
I felt a broken man last night. Eyes so sad and worried that I wouldn’t be strong enough to deal with what is in front of me. Asking me if I was ok a million times.
I’m ok. Everything will be ok.
I held him tightly till he fell asleep last night whilst holding back all my own tears. As I sent them off on the trip I had booked for them with the last of my credit I felt that wave of emotion I was holding sweep across me and sat looking at all the mess and cried. And cried. And cried. I need this few days to sort things out and just be in it by myself.
I am not a stupid or lazy or horrible person. I try and live life in a way that considers others. Even when I’m just going about my normal every day.
I have a lot going for me. I’m still a catch.  I know I’m worth as much as the next person.
Sonetimes when I look at people around me that live in their very comfortable lives with big houses and nice cars I wonder, “what do they have that I don’t?”
And yet In fact it is the other way round. I want more.
Those things aren’t enough for me. They don’t mean anything. They never have. It’s just stuff.
I mean, I wouldn’t turn down those amazing choices that others have that come from not worrying about money. But then I often wonder what they miss in having those choices.
Real Life can come as a bit of a shock to some when they have never had to struggle.
And then there are some that never will struggle. But many of those appear very soulless and dont  know  what deep and passionate love looks like.
My heart is what it is, from not having those choices. It has always grown from struggles.
When I saw how broken p was last night it made me want to love him. Make him feel loved. He needs it way more than others who feel loved by many. Even though they probably don’t have those same qualities as P. The hidden ones that no one much cares about.
But I do. I care about those things. Way more than all the money stuff.
One of my most happiest moment in life was talking through the night until the sun came up. Could have been absolutely anywhere. I didn’t give a shit where it was. It was all about sharing it with that person. It had to be that person.

Something in thinking about this is making me feel  so much better in feeling like I am worth more than some bricks and cement.
I can’t be bought which makes me financially poor,   I’m not sitting in the crazy dreamy love that my heart desires and right now I’m feeling pretty sad in not being able to make choices that would certainly look different if I had the means.

But .. Am I wasted? Could I cheapen my value and find myself living in a beautiful big house, going on amazing holidays and driving my 4×4. There were men that liked me through the last  2 years who I had zero interest in that probably could have provided the financial security. They were just looking for someone. But just someone doesn’t work for me. Even with that comfortable life. So Instead I find myself trying to fit 2 years worth life into our little flat, catching up on everyone’s else’s washing and left trying to sort the loan which will either save us or leave us fucked.
I said that I had failed and yet I find myself questioning that. I’m basing it on what the universal measure of success is. Having all that your heart desires. Wealth, happiness, love.
Who decided they are the measures of success? And in fact there is something in breaking those down and saying what even constitutes wealth, happiness and love.
Suddenly I’m feeling just a little more motivated. Knowing  that although this road ain’t looking like a super picnic right now perhaps I can give P a share of something different, something new and something that makes him feel like more too.
No ones lives are wasted. If you mean something to someone else, whether that be a parent, or a child, A relative, a friend, .. whatever … then your life is not wasted. It’s only wasted if you only mean something to you.
That your happiness is central. That’s a very empty and soul destroying road to travel.
So here’s not to wasting a life. I would quite like a few of Cinderella’s helpers to come in and give me a bit of a hand in sorting this mess out but failing that I will do my best and feel good trying to be more.

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