Fickle! Me?

Woman, Portrait, Lovely, Fashion, LuxuryMy emotions have been more temperamental than is normal this past month. I know why. Perhaps you know why, it depends on whether you have had the patience to read any of my longer posts. But adding to the challenges this month (I have had a lot of flashbacks to the night I was attacked and the events leading up to that night) seems to bring, is the accumulative effect of tiredness over these past months. Working at least six days a week is wearing me out. But I have a little time off ahead of me.

dfhagifaWhat I will do on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday has been a question for a while. I have lots of options. But I have been reluctant to commit myself to anything…because I don’t want to feel tied down to anything. I want to wake up when I feel ready, and do whatever I feel like, without feeling obligated to keep a promise to someone.

I have chatted to a friend of mine roughly once a week for the past few months, and today she said I was fickle. I asked her what she meant. She laughed and said it was frustrating to her that I kept changing my mind.

Apparently, from week to week I have said things like, “I just don’t want to be alone during those days,”…then a week later, “I think I just need some time on my own,”…then a week later, “I’ll go crazy if I am all on my own with these intense thoughts and feelings,”…and then, “I just need to sleep and shut out conversations and chit chat about the virus and the economy and everything exhausting”.

Woman, Watch, Girl, Lady, Clock, JewelryAt some point I told her, “I have lots of plans to keep myself busy, sorting out clothes and books, cleaning out the insides of all my cupboards and drawers, and giving everything a really good clean.” When my friend reminded me I had suggested I would do lots of spring-cleaning, apparently I replied, “I don’t want to be stuck indoors, I want to be out walking in the fresh air.” Yet on one occasion I told her that though I love walking, “I’m not sure walking on my own is good for me, because if I am downhearted I end up sobbing while I walk.

Even this week, when I found out Jack was coming home, I said, “I am going to go up to see him and sit outside on the grass while he obeys the 14-day quarantine and sits out on his balcony”. Later I thought that was not wise, and I told her today, “It’s not a good idea for me to go near the place I was attacked.”

dsfafadgafMy poor friend!!! Can you imagine how confused she is listening to me? I love her so much! I hate it when she tries to give me advice – it is always terrible advice – full of cringe-worthy cliches. But she is a very lovely friend nonetheless, and I love that the two of us always find things to laugh about (we have both had some painful challenges to deal with). We are looking forward to meeting up for a coffee at some point. She’s in a county outside of London, and I have not used public transport since February. But when it is safe…she is one of the people I am longing to see.

Anyway…as soon as she said I was fickle…I could not help think of Rigoletto…but as you all know, “it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind!!!”

Woman is fickle
Like a feather in the wind
She changes her voice and her mind
Always sweet
Pretty face
In tears or in laughter, she is always lying
Always miserable
Is he who trusts her
He who confides in her his unwary heart!
Yet one never feels
Fully happy
Who on that bosom does not drink love
Woman is fickle
Like a feather in the wind
She changes her voice and her mind,
And her mind,
And her mind!

 

Feelings Like Photons

feelings.gifI think I mentioned a while back that I was trying to write a letter to Goldfinch, but I was struggling because my feelings were mixed up. It was nothing on his part that was causing it…I just felt so happy out in Australia, and was so sad that the time with him had come to an end. I didn’t want to overwhelm him with a deluge of emotion in that letter.

Anyway…I sat down and thoughts and words finally came. But what I wanted to mention to you today is a kind of illustration I used to explain my emotional make-up.

I remember years ago learning about the journey of photons from the sun’s core to it’s surface and then it’s ongoing journey from the surface of the sun out into the surrounding solar system, possibly even heading to our beautiful planet. I have read lots of articles about this fascinating process, and although the basics are very similar, some of the time frames guesstimated are different.

fusion.pngBut essentially, it takes a very long time for a photon to escape from the sun’s core and travel to the surface so it can launch itself into the solar system. How long? One article said anywhere between 10,000 and 170,000 years. Another said anywhere between 50,000 and 15,000,000 years. I have seen other articles that simple give an average, but three different articles gave me three different averages, 16,000 said one, 45,000 said another, 1,000,000 said yet another. I’m not worried. I don’t see anyway they can be 100% sure of something that is currently completely beyond our ability to measure accurately. The point is, it takes a very long time!

And it is not an easy journey at all! One article described the photon’s journey as “hellish”. Essentially it is bounced around, as if it is trapped in a giant insane pinball machine. And it’s all super fast. How fast? At the speed of light presumably!

nurtureContrast this with what happens when it leaves the sun’s surface…a photon would take just over eight minutes (most articles seem to agree on this) to travel from the surface of the sun, to our planet Earth. There it will do amazing things! It will nurture life, power generators, bring cheer to people’s hearts…but potentially it could cause damage, burn skin or scorch earth.

Well…I sat down to finish my letter Goldfinch. I was bursting with emotion that I have not let escape in all this time. It has been bombarding around me, chaotically colliding with other thoughts and feelings. It has felt like nuclear fusion, like an insane pinball machine that was hurling everything in my heart in mystifying directions.

hug.pngAnd now it would take me a relatively short amount of time to let those emotions escape and form on paper…it will take Goldfinch even less time to read them. But I wanted him to know, they are only intended to warm his heart and to bring cheer, to empower him and to nurture his soul. They are not supposed to burn or scorch or do any damage.

I would love to him to think of me and understand that if I could harness my feelings, they would be warm embraces, huge fond hugs, communicating how embedded in my heart he is.

brightSo I managed it…I wrote down a beautiful letter than expresses my love, my gratitude and my joy at everything he has been, everything he has done, everything he has shared with me. His warmth has breathed life and joy and pleasure into me. He has caused me to blossom and thrive again. My letter is on it’s way to Australia even now…sadly not travelling at the speed of light. It encapsulates my photon-like feelings and expresses my hope that whenever he thinks of me, it will warm him and energise him. For he will always be a spark of joy in my heart.

I do hope I see him again. These 10,100 miles are a very grievous thing. I would love to be able to travel at the speed of light. Someone else did the maths…and worked out that travelling at the speed of light, it would take just over half a second to travel from London to Australia. I wonder if my photon-like feelings are strong enough to travel at that speed and to deliver the same impact they left my heart with.

rough.gif

So Close To Giving Up (All I Need Is A Word)

cautiousJust a reminder that my 05:58am GMT scheduled posts are mostly republished posts from this time last year. I think I might be confusing some readers. Last summer Goldfinch was living in England (he was here for work). I thought he was upset with me about something…

This tiredness malarkey is hard to beat.  I have slept a lot over the weekend, but I am still exhausted. I am so worried that Goldfinch is not talking to me. He has not replied to any of my texts or voice mails and when I try to ring him, it goes straight to his answering service.

I am not certain but I think it is the weight of this burden on my heart of all that happened between me and my ex-flatmate.  It’s daft, but it is exhausting to relive all those words and looks and thoughts and feelings.

But, I am glad to have found a medium to express these buried memories and emotions, because talking out loud has not been the way to communicate these for me.  For starters, no one is patient enough to let me work through it.  Everyone butts in and asks questions that I cannot answer.  But writing about it all…at least it is all coming out and I am not on my own with these painful memories and emotions (that frankly are not anyone else’s burden, but my own).

woman cryingFor over three years I have been trying to work out what happened and what went wrong and I have narrowed it down to the week I have been relating to you, the week after that cup of tea with my flatmate.  That was key to what happened afterwards.  The following months were agony.  Neither of us were brave enough to sit down and talk again, so the situation became unbearable because we did not communicate, we just hurt each other it seemed.

Then one summer evening after my birthday, I went to a London park on my own, because I did not want to see my ex-flatmate.  It was around 10pm, but it was light when I arrived and there were lots of people around.  I sat on a bench and let myself weep. After a while, a man sat next to me on the bench, and made a few friendly comments.  I became aware of how dark it was and how there was no one else around.

AmbulanceI stood up and said I had better be getting back home. Seconds later, I was on my knees after huge strength pushed me down by the shoulder and I remember with a shudder the words, “You’re not going anywhere.”  I am never going to write a post about what happened between that moment and waking up the next morning in an ambulance – it is not going to happen.  It is something I do not need to relive or write about.

But as I have said before, I am still tormented by everything that happened between my flatmate and I that caused me to go to the park on my own, feeling I could not bear to see him, and deeply grieved that my ex-flatmate still has found no words to communicate to me after that night.

cloudIt is a big grey cloud that hangs over me and sometimes blocks out the sunshine.  Even worse, it has perhaps led me to sabotage my wonderful relationship with my gorgeous Goldfinch who gave me his frank opinion of my ex-flatmate last weekend.

This is what happens with emotional tiredness…you do stupid things that you later regret.  My sister Milly called last night and we chatted.  That made me feel a lot better. Thank goodness for family.

But still, not communicating only causes pain.  I have tried to communicate with my ex-flatmate a handful of times over the last three years, but have not received a word back from him.  Everyone involved says he wants to talk, but is still in shock about what happened to me and does not know what to say.  But I no longer care what he says – the silence is unbearable.

And now, waiting to hear from Goldfinch is unbearable. I love him. I am so worried that I have hurt him or made him angry.

Look…all I can do right now is carry on cooking and freezing meals, clean my kitchen and go to bed.  I don’t have the emotional energy to jump on a train and go and stand in front of either my ex-flatmate or Goldfinch.  I am way way too tired.  I just want to curl up in a little ball and pretend none of this ever happened.

I want my life back, my career back and I want to be back in my room in my flat with Ella and Dean, and any flatmates who are willing to empty bins and not be hostile on a daily basis.