Cats have nine lives apparently, and I am catching up.
My first life was easy , growing up, with my family, school, college and university. It was simple, loving. Not perfect. That would be wrong to suggest. To us, it was normality. We are still close knit, but, it was unexceptionable. I graduated with a respectable Law degree and trotted off to London.
My London life. That was an adventure. There were highs and there were real lows. I’ve known what it’s like to not be able to buy food. To work all of the hours that God sends, and still not be able to afford to eat. To feel the shame and gratitude of your friends buying food. But I have known the flip side. To ride the wave of working in the West End. To be at THAT show, on THAT night, and chances are, I didn’t even pay to be there. I have known what it’s like to walk across Putney Bridge as the snow falls. To feel the chill, and to know the beauty of the flakes hitting my face as I make my way home.
I have the recollection of the swine flu epidemic, of moving house and yet not being with it. From Putney to Surrey and just wanting to sleep.
I know the sheer horror of trying to work out how to fit a baby into a lifestyle that doesn’t seem suitable for a baby. I can still feel the terror in the pit of my stomach when I realised that I was not going to be able to make it work. Not as I knew it.
I have a surround sound echo, haunting me of the friendships that fell apart.. some of those I miss, one, I do not.
I feel the shame of knowing that I needed to make a call or throw myself under a bus.
I was that broken.
I made the call. And I thank everything lucky that I did, I was whisked Home.. I was taken care of, and I was loved. Childbirth nearly killed me but the heavens were on my side and I am still here.
My next life was just as turbulent. A new Mum, back home as a child. An older sibling and a mess. I did not improve. I stagnated. I let myself recluse and I didn’t not experience life.
And then I moved again, to a new Village. A new place. I knew a few family members, but no friends. I scratched at the surface and faced some fears. I made a life for us. My boy and I. And I was scared.
I love where I am at. But. I cannot find a way to reconcile all of my lives. How can my son know the me who was at her friends gig, throwing down drinks without a care in the world. I see where he is now, and know that I exist on the outer edges, my importance diminished by both of our lives, yet, I still want all of the best of everything for him. I hold him in the same high regard, and only in my darkest moments do I question where he holds me. I am my own worst enemy and I know it.
What would The young girl who stood, wearing next to nothing in Norway, trying to fool herself that the object of her desires was interested in her-when deep down she knew he wasn’t, think of the single Mum who is trying to find her way in a life that is the polar opposite to the one she was living.
The who I am now doesn’t regret my past. I hold it dear, and the friends that stayed with me. And those who left. I wish them well and hope they find happiness.
I wonder, can we be reconciled, or do we just move from life to life, without the pieces fitting, and just hope for the best?