“Reach for the girl underneath”
I am trying even though often I feel like I have run out of trying.
Trying to unravel the elements that belong to me and the ones that don’t so that I can find that girl underneath.
But she is scared. In all her openness and risks and belief in love and magic and good in others, she is just too fucking scared to come out of the woods.
Preferring to live a solitary life right now where no one can get near to her, and find herself completely crushed again. All of the broken down defences rendered useless and currently trying to fix them in order to protect herself. But wishing she didn’t need them.
Detaching from the massive so that she might have time to rest and find all that missing strength and fight. The fight that is required for herself not for everyone else around her. But still unable to not feel selfish, in taking care of herself. All that painstaking work undertaken to not feel that way, unravelled, and having to start the process all over again.
Looking for a sign. Standing in the dark last night waiting for a shooting star that never came.
Where others find their strength to stop hiding and live their truth I am feeling the opposite. Because it broke me and I’m struggling to fix it. I want to. Having good days and bad days but not Me days. Yet!
P used to say to me “I love your naivety. You just see the good in things and people as you buzz around. I love you because you are so loving M”
He also said to me “I worry about you being around all those types(?). They’re not like us and they are definitely not like you.
They talk like they know you. They don’t know you and they won’t give a shit about you. They will walk all over you M”
He made me so annoyed when he said that. You don’t even know them. How can you make such a sweeping statement?
Because he felt hurt. Hurt by me and hurt by the machine and those who were prospering from it. Who didn’t care about him or any of the other casualties of that machine. Who didn’t know who he was but felt like they had the right to judge.
The “I’m alright jacks”
So sure in their judgements of others without ever taking a moment to see who they are.
Before I ever started college I felt worn down by P’s attitudes even though I understood why he felt that way.
What seems such a simple equation is often much more complex and complicated. The machine is really complicated. I learn more about it every day. When I take the time to think about how it works. What and who fuels it. To break it down and analyse it. Too big to stop, but sometimes wondering how I can throw a spanner in the works. I believe Mother Nature just did. When you really look it becomes clear in who becomes the collateral damage and why. Most people don’t think or care. I wish they did. There is a lot of knowledge held in the workings of this machine. And a lot of wasted pieces that have so much value but are just thrown away. Just tinkering with the machine is heavy and uncomfortable work.
As time has ticked on we have become a society of “ I want it and I want it now, as cheaply as possible” I’ve seen how that has evolved through my life. Ignorance really is bliss but actually I often See more of a turning a blind eye. That can feel worse. It makes me sad.
I laughed at how many of the greatest wonders of my life feel like they are suddenly being discovered as though they have never existed before this moment and yet are the majority of the life I have lived. A way I remember many people living once but was lost is the “I want it now” demand.
Survival of the fittest. If you can’t beat em join em.
I find myself sitting in the camp of wanting to join in but unable to just join em. Because I’m not ignorant or blind and to pretend I am would be completely disloyal to my roots. Because it’s what made the best parts of who I am.
Looking out for others is the right way to live this life. I mean If Albert Einstein called it then it can’t be too far wrong I may not be a genius but he sure was.
“Only a life lived for others is a life worth living”
Covid 19 highlights it in a way that is hard to hide from.
I guess we all know how we were living our lives before. I certainly have thought about it. whether or not we are able to own it is a whole other question. There is a lot that I struggle to own. It will be fascinating for me to see how we live after. What really will change?
With rest I feel my hopefulness in that will return.
But right now I am buried under a cynical version that feels virtually impossible to fight against. I am hidden underneath it all again and feeling those feelings that belong to P. And I’m unable to breath in them. And feeling that anger and frustration. Fighting with it but feeling a solidarity in having found myself falling through the cracks despite all my efforts and trying to be a decent human.
Being decent Is just a given. Just a way of being. Just another invisible person who tries to live a life with integrity. Making mistakes but always doing things with the best of intentions. Nothing special.
It completely ground P down and in the process did the same to us. Until I was no longer able to see my own happiness. Losing myself underneath all the cynicism and anger. It’s why I care so much. I didnt want to be yet another person who didn’t give a shit and didn’t understand.
I did, I do. But trying to help him is something that I have spent alot of time and energy on. Really trying for him but buried beneath their hurt to the point of my own happiness being crushed. I felt it then and I feel it again now. It breaks my heart. Especially as I know how much P loves me. But he has hurt me and my life in ways that I often feel is impossible to fix. I’m just so tired.. but I don’t want it to define my future. I don’t want to become bitter and cynical. It’s not how I’m made and life is more magic.
I spent Saturday in Little Italy and was reminded in what Love is. If nothing else I always believe in Love.
I find myself thinking of P as a young man. Ive always been a discerning girl. I wouldn’t have settled for anyone. I was very independent back then. Good job and my own place albeit a garage from when I was 16 but I lived in my own.
I didn’t need someone. to take care of me, In fact it was the last thing I wanted.
But P was one of the kindest people I ever met. He was the cheeky cor blimey boy who would do anything for anyone. He didn’t give a shit about money or status. Pretty simple wants and needs.
Brought up in that traditional working class style where you look out for each other. Family, friends neighbours strangers . Like a chip off the old block. His dad is just like that. Doing anything for anyone no questions asked.
Trouble is that over time the world changed and people became a little more in love with a pound note. And those old fashioned values wore away more and more. People aspiring to live a life they saw it in tv shows and movies. Wishing for the glossy and packaged up version that saw us needing this, that and the other to be part of the sophisticated crew.
I hear that snobbery all the time. People that think they are better because they have a real designer bag rather than a fake. Depends what your definition of fake is.
It’s impossible to know what everyone’s lives look like. We can’t put labels on people. We are all different.
But I’ve heard judgements from people that don’t understand what it is like to grow up with nothing. They haven’t experienced it so why would they. I actually struggle more with the people who do know. Who believe that a pound note is a sign of what makes them better.
And looking down on and feeling sorry for the ones who are further down the ladder to them. Pitying them. “ poor you” ( I always feel that’s a funny little phrase)
Money being the difference in being a someone or a no one. Having worth or not. By whose standards? The machines?
And all those people from all sorts of backgrounds that are trying to climb the ladder or just keep a rung on it thinking, the machine doesn’t see me, doesn’t care about me and it doesn’t help me. Only they don’t necessarily see the machine they only see the people who fuel it.
But when I was feeling P’s version of that day after day after day and being the place for all that frustration and anger it pulled me down too. As hard as I tried to climb up and find my own version of what more looked like it felt like I was constantly being pulled down. Thinking that I too would become like “them.” Looking down on him as though he was lesser. Only my roots are deep. Love meaning much more to me that money. Wanting to try and do more and be more and as time went on feeling like I could help other people like me and P who were seen as less but knowing we were hiding so much more.
Believing that perhaps I could make a difference. I couldn’t change the world but I could be a recognisable face to people anywhere on that ladder.
I’ve been around. I have climbed and fallen at different times of life. I know how to be around all different types. I don’t feel intimidated by them even though it might have appeared at times in my vulnerability that I was. They are just people.
I think in moments I have been more upset in feeling some truth in P’s cynical in how others behave.
You have your eyes closed I was told. They will never accept you unless you become like them.
And perhaps he was right. Sitting in my rose coloured glasses protected behind his real ones. Seeing life in its reality as he drove around, looking at the different versions that sit side by side but don’t mix and are worlds apart, listening to people talking and not much liking their motivation.
I think I was happy to live in my beautiful and magical and fairy tale version.
Only when I ventured off on my own I found some less than magical realities for myself. And places and people who didn’t accept me or thought they were better. And in trying finding that a person who had known me over half my life didn’t accept me anymore either. Feeling like I should know my place on both sides. No longer fitting on either side of the fence and searching for where I did.
I never looked to be “them”. I was just looking to be me. Not selfish, not bad just ME. Left feeling like I wasn’t good enough even though perhaps I was bringing stuff that no book can teach you.
As I walked yesterday I realised that my anger and disconnection from people and the machine is not mine. In the past 9 months I have been completely buried under all that I had removed myself from.
Feeling crushed by his feelings. My truest self disappearing deep inside, hiding , and protected by the strength of the warrior who developed as a kid. She found her calling through the last few years and is pretty worn out.
The little bohemian girl of truth, beauty, freedom love finding her self hidden in the forest and feeling like she can’t exist in the real world she lives in.Too scared to come out because she didn’t last five minutes.
And yet I know a part of my anger with the machine is mine. Because I know that P is one of life’s good guys . Just like his dad. Hard working, kind, decent. But life doesn’t care about that and neither does the machine and all of us that fuel it. They feel hurt in ways that other people are now feeling during this crisis. Loss and what the result of that will be after. Good people from all sorts of walks of life who have always tried their best and did the right thing and looked out for others without any thought. Never advertising it, just a way of being.
Who will find themselves feeling bitter in not being helped or forgotten.
And that makes me really sad. For them and for me. Because that is what happened to P and I became a part of that. Left feeling like I didn’t fight hard enough for him. Questioning it. Beating myself up for it . Not believing I did even when he had told me that I did.
Left feeling exhausted in trying to help another. Until I had nothing left.
All I wanted was to find some happiness of my own.
So as I continue to try to reach for the girl underneath and pull her from the wreckage, I promise to never forget where this girl came from. It’s important to remember. Perhaps it doesn’t define where I can go but I would like to think it will influence the way I get there.
Because by fighting for me, for defying that machine and saying Im going to do it a different way, I feel like I am fighting for
those that feel like they are completely beaten.
Perhaps I won’t ever get there wherever there is but perhaps I will make little differences along the way.
Maybe the only way to succeed in this machine is to join em but my version of success and amazing will look different to theirs.
And often it won’t be seen, or valued, or understood. But I will know and that’s all that matters really. Because I will ensure it is all fuelled by love.
And I won’t let this man made machine turn me into cynical and bitter .. because I am made of love and I don’t know if anyone ever told you, but money can’t buy you love.
“If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them more fairy tales.”