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.
Image © Bortn66 | Dreamstime
I am so grateful for how I grew up. I lived in a family where the worse thing you could be called is a ‘besom’ – as in ‘you little besom‘ which, translated from Irish means broom. This – of course – was only when you had done something naughty. Otherwise you were ‘angel’ or ‘darling’.
Swearing simply did not feature. Even my dad, who was a man’s man in his work – at home, an officer and a gentleman. I can never recall him being profane. Emotional, yes. Ugly in his language towards others. Never.
So…I am somewhat amazed how over the last year or so, I seem to have morphed into a sailor with Tourettes. This is not a new phenomenon, but after yet another frustrating conversation this evening, I found myself muttering the F-word darkly…even worse, aloud!
Now, there are many women out there who – at this point – will loudly shout that it’s our right as feminists to use language as we please. Yes. It is. We can and should claim our power. However, I spent my youth filling in Readers Digest ‘Improve your Wordpower’ quizzes, and I have a postgrad degree in English Literature, so actually, I have no excuse. I have at least 171,476* words at my disposal, so effing and blinding should not be my ‘go to’ strategy.
The truth is that I am angry. And I am not being heard. And therefore not understood. Language can connect us, but it can also create barriers – we think we speak in the same way, but actually our words are the bricks we use to construct the walls of silence that bind us unwillingly…or…the brickbats we lob at one another when we feel threatened.
I feel like shouting and swearing. Yes, it will relieve my frustration (temporarily). Yes, it will make me feel like I’m expressing my emotions (temporarily). But it will not and cannot remove the core issue, the seed of this extreme emotion. My anger. My hurt.
Which got me thinking…in this hour, and of this evening…might silence be the better option?
30 Day Challenge
Friday. For most of the last 2 years Friday’s were either spent travelling to Belgium or waiting for The Belgian to make it back to Blighty. Friday marked the end of a busy working week and the start of weekend adventures – home or abroad. While I’m having some downtime between assignments, Friday is still a good day to mark the close of ‘work’ and the beginning of ‘play’.
30 Day Challenge
Day #7. Music. To be honest, this could be every single day of the challenge. I love all sorts of music – so eclectic is my taste that I have thoroughly confused the ITunes algorithm. I blogged about this in an earlier post which you can read here. https://edgeofthepier.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/soundtrack-to-my-soul/
So, instead of a picture, today’s accompaniment is simply a song…by one of my bands of the moment. The words describe perfectly how I feel when music moves me.
30 Day Challenge
Day#5. Weskus. Today, I’m missing my roots and in unusually contemplative mood. Unlike Isak Dinesen, I don’t have a farm in Africa, but I do have a patch of land that keeps me tied to a fabulous spot on a great continent. In the ups and downs of the last 10 years, I have been close to having to sell it many times, but somehow it stayed with me because I could not let it go. It was mine, wholly and truly. This year, although I don’t need to sell it, I will – with a smidgeon of reluctance and a dash of bitter-sweet sadness. I am saying goodbye to my little piece of the West Coast so that someone else can realise their dreams by buying my plot. I promise to visit there one more time before I do.
Day #2. Yellow. Daffodils are my favourite flowers at this time of year. I love this cheery little flower. They serve as a reminder that no matter how dark things seem, there is always growth.
Sometimes, you have to travel far to find yourself. This year my journey has led me to France, Spain, cross-Channel – and back – for love; to Switzerland and Italy for work. Have passport, will travel! Actually I have three, but if I told you why, I’d have to kill you…
Those who know me well, know I have a restless heart. Routine bores me! And yet I crave stability. Rules annoy me!! And yet…I crave order. Travel excites me!!!…And yet…
The more miles I racked up, the further I found myself from the people I love. And even further away from myself. Business travel sounds glamorous, until you find yourself decanting your suitcase every Sunday evening, only to fill it with security-compliant sized moisturizer and shampoo. Kissing your lover goodbye, knowing that more than a time-zone separates you. Unable to meet friends for a drink after work because you have to get up at the crack of dawn to catch the red-eye to where-ever!
Enough said. And enough. My round trip has brought me full circle. Sometimes the best adventures are to be found in your own backyard.
Pier Point 