Find Me

Sometimes I question whether I am crazy!

Very often actually. A few days ago as I put my earphones in a song was playing out of nowhere. Not on my play list. Where did it come from? Find Me. The rational version is that it was a connection that my phone picked up from the same artist that had accompanied my sadness which has been disguised as anger. A sadness that I don’t want to show or feel anymore. A sadness where you just want to exit because it hurts too much. But I can never exit my own heart. A heart that I carry round with me everywhere I go. That never lets me forget. That holds no rationality. It just feels what it feels without a single reason. As my head steps in to try to protect it. But it ignores and continues to feel its own version of castles in the sky. Quietly where no one can see it. 
But my heart sometimes combines with my head in all its rationality to  tell me who I need to be. My girl needs me. More than she ever has. In a way that I wish she didn’t. Not because I resent or begrudge it but because I love her so much and it makes me sad to see her have to deal with this. I feel so lucky that we are so close. But I wish more than anything for her to have the life that she wishes for and I want to do whatever it takes to help her to make that happen. Wishing that she can have all the love and happiness that she wants beyond me and her dad. She will always have that but she deserves the kind of love beyond that makes her feel special and happy.

Love can very easily become selfish. A version where it becomes about what we want from another. But that’s not a love that  I wish to subscribe to. How easy it is to subscribe to that when it provides something so wonderful. But to really love someone is to wish for what they wish for. To wish them to be happy. I have never wanted to hold on to her life no matter how much it makes mine more wonderful. We were always borrowing her. We had the joy and the good fortune to be the people  who were given the gift of taking care of her until she was ready to fly away and explore this world beyond the safety of our wings. Beyond home. Even though we will always be her home. Her place of love and comfort and safety. But somehow despite all our efforts we managed to let her down. To not provide everything that she needed in order to fly confidently out into the world. When we talk she says often how much she misses us both. How much she misses that love. How much she misses the easiness of life when she was a kid. How she wishes she could just go back to the life she had at home. Where she felt safe and happy. A victim of the love that she felt as she grew up where everything was just fun and cuddles. I wonder sometimes if the transition between childhood and adulthood is easier if you are running towards something better. As I try to soothe her distress from a distance I wonder about all the things that I’ve got wrong. Regrets in how my choices might have affected her. How my happiness might have led to her sadness. She always says she was really happy and how much she has loved the time she has got to spend with us individually. Close to both of us. Maybe if she had been desperate to get away she might have found what she was looking for. She was looking for different but still wanting it to come with genuine and love. But she is struggling to find that genuine and love. I think so much about how much freedom she had. But that freedom came with a warm hug when she returned. Encouraging her to explore and do the things that she loved. She had such an independence. But none of it came with any pressure to succeed or go down any particular path. “Life is all about being happy” we always said. The safety net in place for her whenever she fell. Loving her exactly as she was without a requirement to be anything more. But perhaps to function and survive in this world requires more structure. The structure at home was always love and care. But the security fell away in the chaos. Did that affect her? all the sadness that came from loss that none of us were prepared for. I fought hard to get it back but it’s a real basic. I know it hurt me. 

In my book she said “first my mother .. forever my friend”
Lots of photos reflecting both, in ways that remind me of similar images in my mind with my own mum. Feeling that combination as I spend time every week with my own mum and also my younger brother who have been exactly what I have needed. I feel really safe and at home in that. It just feels like a constant warm hug. 
We’ve been discussing a trip we wish to take together to Ireland. A road trip all round Ireland but with a focus on visiting the the birth place of my grandad in Waterford. Just the three of us. What a crazy adventure that would be as my mum dreams of feeling closer to the “best man of her life”. A man that was so full of fun and twinkle and always made her feel really special. If there is a stereotype of an Irish fella he would have been it. A giant who loved the crack. I feel there is some magic to be found in that shared experience. 

My girls sadness fuels my own. I think I would feel differently after all those challenges if she was ok. But as a lovely lady once said “you are only as happy as the happiness of your children”. Yes I feel that. My love for her superseding anything beyond. Her need being greater than mine. I have very little to give beyond, including to myself. Her sadness that often makes me regret my own moments of happiness. She deserves it way more than me. I will do whatever it takes to even up the odds for her. Finding myself disappearing back into my own world again in order to find what I need. It feels even lonelier there now after feeling able to share it. My heart is in charge of that place and  reminds me often of what it felt like to share it even if my head tries to squash it. My head doesn’t live in that world. Never did. 

The song left me feeling so much. One of those strange things that seemingly comes from nowhere but mirrors the feelings that sit deep within me. In a place that I feel I need to bury so deeply that it can no longer mess with my fragile head. A head that often leaves me wondering if I really am crazy. What a bookcase. A song that pulled at every string of sadness that I feel as I try so very hard to move forward. It’s very very slow progress that doesn’t much look like progress other than crying less, feeling more and trying to feel the peacefulness in complete simplicity. Another page in my girls book with photos by myself which was described as “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication”. What a darling she is. That simplicity is helping me to make changes that might allow me to find a way forward in this real world. Trying my very hardest to be a version of me that feels good. That I can feel really proud of. A version that consists of all the beautiful parts of myself. Disappearing to do that.

“Because I’ve always believed that the odds of finding what you seek tend to favor those who are open to seeking them in the first place. And I for one have never quite understood how odds stand to get even without that frame in mind”

Those that are open to seeking! I’ve always been completely open. I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve my whole life. My heart ruling my head. Never more so than in that chapter. The odds being evened when others meet me half way. I feel that with the people closest to me. 

“the love I felt beating inside my chest was nothing more than my mind playing an unfair trick on my heart” 

My head can never play a trick on my heart. Ever!!! Love comes in many forms and sometimes that love conflicts. And my head steps in, in all it’s rationality. How easily I can be swept up in a dreamy version that throws caution to the wind. I know what that looks like. But … It’s so easy when I only risk myself. So easy!!! If it was just me I was risking I would risk it every day of my life.

I was told by my brother in the week that my dad had been in touch with all of my siblings. Individually they have all met up with him. His hand being held out at 78 years old in wishing to find his sense of peace before he reaches his final exit. His heart attack triggering a need for something. The request from him coming via my brother in wishing to see me. It felt like a strange request after hearing my brother say that my dad said “I have no regrets”. 
Leaving me in a position to have to make a choice. I hate making choices. I always seem to get them wrong. I either completely overthink or am completely spontaneous. Rationality is not really my gift. 
But I find myself asking what would it provide? No time, effort or fight has been provided by him. Just showing up at the end. Am I supposed to run into his outstretched arms? Like a beautiful ending to a movie. I sound cynical. But I’m not. Just very resigned to his absence in my life. Resigned to his absence in times that I really needed one. And he picks now. In a time when I’m just so tired of caring about people and then being hurt by their lack of it. 
I needed him to fight for me because he really cared. To swallow his own importance for a moment and try to imagine what it might have looked and felt like for someone who loved him. This version feels something very different. It feels less about caring for me and more about caring about himself. About getting what he needs as he moves towards his exit. Knowing that whatever choice I make, it will hurt me more because I really do care. Really caring about him. I always have. Loving him from afar without him knowing and wondering if he did. Waiting patiently but it never arrived.
Never having a single wish to hurt him. But if I’m completely honest a part of me would wish him to understand what the pain of not being cared about feels like. But I don’t think he will ever really understand that. And I’m not sure I’m prepared for the version the others got in him talking about how wonderful his life has been and how brilliant his two young kids are and that this time “he got it right”. I’m glad we provided a valuable lesson that you wish to share at 78.

And so as I write and try to work out what feels best I find myself in the position of being caught somewhere between my heart and my head. My head feeling let down and not wishing to feel that again but my heart wanting to provide him with what he needs. I’m made how I’m made. In the end it only ever hurts me, no matter what all those books and people tell me. Knowing that I won’t get what I need from him but hoping that by giving maybe I will give me what I need. 
A reminder of the Girl in the Red Coat. The girl who loves with her whole heart … and not wishing to lose that. Because in the end thats the thing that always made me special! 

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