Who I really am

It feels like a long, long time since I wrote anything here and that's because it has.  I've been ignoring the emails, the IMs and the phone calls although I am very grateful to know there are (or were) regulars who love reading my blog.  It's not that I've had nothing to say it's just that first of all I'm too busy to say it and second, life has been dark for some time now and I'm the sort of person who believes that people go to a blog to escape their own misery, not to vicariously experience yours.  Plus, I never was into self-pity.

I know I've largely dropped off the map the last few months.  No social engagements, few obligations...all my energy has been channeled into keeping me and my small family going.  You can't be cooking pumpkin soup for sick relatives when your kids are wearing the same school uniform for the fifth day in a row.  When you're running from school drop off to work, to the shops, back to the schools and then home to tackle four hours of domestics on your own you quickly realise your energy has to come from somewhere other than food and sleep alone.  So I've been using any time I can beg, borrow or steal to do things that make me happy and I also took the liberty of getting a counselor (more on him later).

Anyway, I remember in one of our sessions I told my counselor (whose name is Jonathon) that my biggest fear is that I don't know who I am any more.  Jonathon is extremely cool and likes to ask direct questions that cut through bullshit faster than a chainsaw through butter.  He immediately wanted to know why not knowing who I am concerns me.  Because, I said, everything I used to do that defined me is gone.  I don't know the person who's come to take the place of what got burned out and left behind.  I don't know what she likes, I don't know who her friends are, I don't know what she's going to be doing next week.  Frankly it's kind of scary.  I feel like a shell that might become something one day, but I don't have a clue what it will be.

A good place to start is doing things that make you happy, says Jonathon and I tell him I have that one covered.  Selfish is the new black apparently.  He laughs and says if you're doing 90% of everything in your household anything you do for yourself isn't selfish it's mandatory.  Okay, I say, anyway, here's my list, replicated here for your viewing pleasure.  It includes, but isn't limited to the following;

Burlesque
Swing dancing
Lots and lots and lots of martial arts
Socialising with totally inappropriate people
Other things too scandalous to mention but can be briefly summarised as "ongoing attempts to wake people out of their suburban stupor and remind them that not only are they alive but there are more important things to do with your day than bitch about who stole your newspaper."

Jonathon blinked at me once I'd finished the list, sighed and asked me whether I realised that he always has to have at least three cigarettes and a bit of a lie down after our sessions.  No, I didn't realise that, I reply, why on earth is that?  He laughs and says it's not every day you meet someone who freely admits they're riding the edge of death and has rather decidedly said fuck you and fuck your anti-depressants I'm going to focus on becoming the coolest chick on the planet as my therapy and fix myself on my fucking own. (Jonathon says fuck a lot, another reason I really like him.)


I must have looked a bit bemused because he laughed, shook his head and said I might not feel like I know who I am but it's not that I'm a new person or a shell that might become a new person.  Rather I've simply ceased pretending to be someone else and decided to be who I really am and no one else.

If that's true, I said, why do I still feel so miserable?  And why do I feel like I don't recognise myself in the mirror?

Because, he replied, you just don't realise what you've done yet.  But you will eventually and then you'll see that you've used what you call your trial by fire to burn away everything that's unnecessary, everything that's holding you back, all the bullshit obligation, niceties and formalities and now you're down to the core - which I think you'll find is tempered steel in the shape of someone you quite like being with a life that's bloody fun to live.

At the time I was spectacularly dubious, despite my respect for the chain smoking, filthy-mouthed, uber-cool Jonathon.  But tonight as I sorted the washing I was thinking to myself how much time I waste getting ready to go anywhere and I realised how totally inefficient it is to order my wardrobe by tops, bottoms, pyjamas, etc.  Five minutes into sorting all my clothes and my various accessories into "burlesque", "martial arts and boxing", "work" and "casual wear" I started to laugh.  I'm still tired and running on almost nothing but Jonathon's right, I'm finally myself and it's someone I really like.  Mother, wife, friend, daughter, arse-kicking stripper extraordinaire.  And I'm back blogging.  So stop harassing me.