Views from the Edge of the Pier
A bullet fired cannot be unfired. Hurtful words, once spoken cannot be swallowed. You cannot un-know a truth, no matter how unpleasant. Solid becomes shattered.
In the aftermath, the fragments of my life turned into sharp, tear-filled shards. I found myself bleeding love. Broken. Wounded. Alone. The recoil made me wind myself inside myself.
One day it won’t hurt anymore. But I will still have the scar.
Photo 97426688 / Bullet © Aaron Priestley-wright | Dreamstime.com
Photo 49775756 / Heart © 9george | Dreamstime.com
I had so many beautiful words to describe you. You couldn’t see what was beautiful inside me.
I tried to share my world by telling you about the people and things I loved. But you only loved yourself.
I tried so hard to reason with you. But I was on the receiving end of your unreason.
You may choose to forget what you said, but I will never forget how your words made me feel in those last, dying days.
Unseen… Unloved… Unheard…
White. The colour of the soundless hospital room.
Black. The colour of pain. The darkness that surrounded me after finding out the person I loved most in the world had left mine.
Red. The colour of a heart ripping in two at the betrayal and unfairness of it all.
Blue. The colour of sadness. The taste of my tears on the pillow.
Green. The colour of loneliness. Endless days spent walking alone to ease the heartache.
Yellow. The colour of hope.
We lost a lot in 2020…
We lost our jobs. We had to find new ways to busy our hands. Imagination and creativity the blocks we used to escape the shrinking walls around us.
We lost our ability to travel. We had to seek new ways to journey. Discovery came from noticing the beauty in our own backyards.
We lost our old habits. We had to cultivate new ways of being. Life in lockdown meant we looked deeper into the mirror and came face to face with our true selves.
We lost the freedoms we took for granted. We had to learn that liberation comes from within.
We lost relationships. We had to find the strength to be alone.
We lost loved ones. We had to find new ways to grieve.
We lost certainty. We found possibility.
ID 115692602 © Tose | Dreamstime.com
Nothing thrives in ice. There’s a point where even the warmest heart cannot thaw the coldest soul. Which got me thinking…
I wonder if love in Latin countries is warm and fiery like sunshine and spices? If so, does that mean that love in the North needs to be unwrapped from deep layers before it can be revealed? Do frozen fingers mean frozen hearts?
Loving someone is like giving them a box of fire. It can gently heat both of you, or it can burn white-hot, searing your soul and leaving scars. But if your heart beats warmly, why shouldn’t you share that gift? You can pour your love into the people and projects that matter most to you. On balance warm hands are better than frostbite.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Image | Copyright Chiromancer 2017
I have always loved Christmas, even though I’m a grown up and don’t quite believe in Santa any more – well, a little bit of me does, so I always leave a carrot out for the reindeer, but that is another story!
I love the sparkly lights, I adore the shiny decorations, I sing along to cheesy Christmas songs. Most of all, I love Christmas dinner. Well, everything except the Brussels Sprouts! Since I grew up in the Southern Hemisphere, we always had dinner on Christmas Eve – doing a roast with all the trimmings on the day is a bit hectic when it’s 30 degrees celsius outside and you are dying for a swim instead of turkey with stuffing!
This year, my Christmas will be special. My mom and middle sister are joining us – me, The Belgian & his 2 reindeer – for a continental Christmas. I feel so grateful we have this chance to connect and spend concentrated time together. It’s been over a year since we’ve seen each other, and several years since we’ve had a family Christmas. This brings a whole new set of blended traditions – crackers, trifle, hapjes and kroketten – unfortunately for me, I’m outnumbered by the Anglo-Belgian mini cabbage-lovers!
One thing I do know – there will be loads of food, laughter and warm memories made. It’s the best present I could hope for. So…here’s my present for you – wherever and however you choose to celebrate – I wish you peace, I wish you light, I wish you hope. Merry Christmas 2017!
It may of course be my age and stage in life, but frankly I don’t care for the Kardashians, the TOWIE babes or any other half-witted, self-promoting bimbos. I may have boobs, but I do have brains, and no – my face isn’t at chest level nor is it surgically enhanced!
It seems to me that these days, superficial is super-cool, plastic (as in surgery and friend-fakery) is fantastic. If you don’t have 40.5m followers on Twitter, you aren’t working hard enough. If you can’t influence on Facebook you are simply not worth friending. Not writing your own cook-bake-make blog …while hand-knitting nappies for your test-tube triplets? Shame on you, woman! Worst of all, social media has given ordinary women such an inferiority complex, we have actually begun to buy the crap promulgated by popular culture. We actually think it’s ok to be a size zero, or to deprive ourselves of coffee, sex or ice-cream…all in pursuit of some photo-edited ideal that simply isn’t reality.
Instead of supporting each other, I see countless examples of women being disparaging about other women. And no, the Kardashians are media freaks and do not count – they are only nice to themselves and Kanye! Eating disorders are at an all time high. It’s estimated that 10% of young women will suffer this. And the phenomena of on-line bullying is a worrying trend. Not content to bash you in the playground, girl-on-girl violence has evolved to the digital age. We’ll get you in cyberspace…For goodness sake, our’s is the era that has spawned the term ‘frenemy’…as in, people you loathe but are friends with? I rest my case!
As a grown up (sometimes) I’ve experienced first-hand how mean, petty and bitchy women can be. At one time, I used to be the only single woman at the dinner table…or not. Sometimes I was not invited, because being single clearly I must be on the hunt for a husband/promotion/shoes and therefore a huge threat. Really? Shoes and promotion, I earned and paid for myself several times over. Husband? Well…I wouldn’t want to steal your bald, fat wallet!
However, I’ve also seen how wonderful, supportive and giving women can be. Instead of competition, collaboration. Instead of combat, caring. Women friends who hear your sobs and will be your solace, women friends who will cheer your success with champagne, women friends who leave money behind or buy you dinner, so you don’t need to worry about spending, women friends who will send you postcards so you don’t feel alone. Perhaps it’s a female destiny to love too much, feel too much or give too much…but it’s done gladly.
So here is a shout out to the women of my generation -my friends and my family. Let’s support each other. Let’s be present enough in each other’s lives to share the good moments, and the bad. Let’s be pleased for each other’s bravery, success or happiness – not envious. Let’s share the love, and magnify the support. Because…whether or not we are related… we are all sisters under the skin.
As Autumn magnificence fades into the melancholy of Winter, we’ve been treated to the most stunning fog here in the coastal reaches. Soft tendrils of grey wrap the landscape, softening hard edges and blurring reality. It’s hard to see which way you are meant to be going. Which is rather apposite, since I find myself wandering in the kind of limbo that only ever afflicts the sure-footed in times of flux.
Poised between two worlds – I’m finalising my affairs in the UK, in preparation for a move to the continent – I feel…fog-bound. Tied to a spiritual sea fret. It’s hard to see which way I’m meant to be going. I find myself in a new reality. All blurry edges and deeply confusing. Of course, I put this down to a mammoth ‘to do’ list which is just on the wrong side of overwhelming. As someone who is very work-orientated, I’m not so good at ‘down time’.
Although changing everything is a big step, it’s no leap of faith. I may not be sure footed at present, but I am sure about the love that beckons like a lightship from across the Channel. Light is the best cure for fog. And love is the best cure for loneliness.
I’ve never considered myself a daredevil. I’m no coward, but as I get older, my sense of self preservation prevails over my sense of fun. The realisation that if I break myself, I shall be unable to work is probably a more powerful incentive than wanting to show off my hell-raising skills. Well, on occasion I have been known to channel my inner vixen on the dance floor, but that is the subject of another blog entirely!
For this reason, I tend to avoid hobbies like base jumping, snake charming or dancing the cha cha on the wings of an aeroplane. This year, I decided life would be a little different. Having laid out my annual manifesto in my Burning Woman post, I concluded that unless I learned to live dangerously, life would stay predictable. So…I took a risky decision. I dared to chance it all on love.
Which is why I now find myself commuting by ferry, celebrating Christmas in two countries, and generally leading a life I thought was well beyond the reach of one so resolutely single. Stepping up – and out – of my comfort zone has been scary and exhilirating. Kinda like dancing on the wings of an aeroplane. But you know…50,000 feet up, without oxygen…feels less like something life-threatening and a lot more like something lovely.
This festive season, I wish my family, friends and dedicated readers of this blog as much love, light and laughter as they can handle. Merry Christmas!
If home is where your heart is, what happens if your heart has been stolen by someone in another country? As some of my regular readers will know, I made my home in the coastal reaches several years ago. In the small seaside town where I live, life has proceeded in fairly uninterrupted fashion. That is, until The Girl in Row B met the man of her dreams halfway across the Channel.
I’m a firm believer in the power of the universe to grant wishes. I’d asked for someone intelligent solvent, own hair and teeth, etc. I’m a Virgo (a.k.a. fussy), so as you can imagine, the product spec was quite lengthy...
In previously universal requests, I’d also mentioned I might like someone who didn’t live in the same place as me. Now don’t get me wrong…I wasn’t wishing for someone on the other side of the planet, just someone who didn’t live in the same place as me. Not too near, not too far.
The lesson here is to be extremely careful what – or who – you wish for. Because I now find myself in the curious position of contemplating life on the continent, having just completed the renovations on my new house – which isn’t. And this got me thinking…
A house is just bricks and mortar. It’s the memories you make with the people you love that create a home. Wherever that might be.
Pier Point 