Sometimes even a right turn can go wrong

Sitting under an umbrella enjoying a fabulous steaming black coffee and a delicious slice, I watched the cars travelling by - some with purpose, some annoying the other drivers as they crawled along at a snail’s pace looking for a park – and my mind drifted back to my marriage. 

 

Divorced before our girl turned one, some nineteen years ago now, I will never regret my marriage.  We have the most beautiful daughter and I believe we truly loved each other, with good reason I might add; we made a good team.  I smile as I think back to the little notes my husband would leave me; to how we met; to the laughter we shared and the fun we had; to working together; to the ridiculous days of backyard cricket and hiding the dog in the wash basket; to the way we planned our wedding. 

We chose to have our wedding on a Thursday night with only family and extremely close friends; the ceremony held at a beautiful historical manor with a pianist playing Unchained Melody as we walked down the sweeping staircase together; we honeymooned interstate for the weekend and then to all our other friends we sent out invitations to our Engagement Party a week later.  During the night we presented the Wedding Cake and shared with everyone that we were, in fact, already married.  It was a cool way to do things and the memories are good ones to hold onto.

We were very similar in a lot of ways; one trait our girl holds us accountable for is our firey tempers, of course we both deny having them! Ha ha ha Our girl often says  “What hope did I have!?! C’mon on!” Ha ha ha  We were both intelligent, a bit quirky, liked to work hard and play harder.  When we had our gorgeous baby girl things changed, maybe we weren’t ready; more likely I have come to believe we both let our respective mothers interfere.  Unfortunately I became very sick about the six month mark and it was a long haul through to the birth, but I would do it all again in a heartbeat! I wasn’t coping, he wasn’t coping and we had voices in our ears. By the time I was finally able to leave the hospital and come home, there was a crack in our armour although I am not sure that either of us was prepared to admit it.

For me, the first six months of motherhood were horrid, I had not a clue what I was doing; I didn’t know who I was; I felt totally lost and disorganised and I called on my Mum a lot for help.  If I had my time over I would do it so very differently; not that Mum wasn’t wonderful – she was – but on reflection, it should have been OUR time as a family and I should have turned to my husband more. As for his mother, well she caused more than a few arguments between us.  I remember asking him to talk to her but, for whatever reason, he couldn’t.  Now I am not saying that either mother deliberately interfered, they were excited too.  What I have come to believe is that neither of us leaned on each other enough. Perhaps it was the fear of the unknown, I don’t know; what I do know is we let others’ voices into our heads instead of only listening to each other.

When our girl was about eight months old my husband told me he wanted to end the marriage.  I was hormonal, angry and devastated. I recall driving to work and I would cry all the way there and all the way home, every day.  The bank I was managing was in a shopping complex and as music played over the system, I would dread hearing Unchained Melody.  Murphy’s Law it seemed to be played repeatedly and I would have to excuse myself to the bathrooms where tears would flow like a river trying to find its way home.  

So life went on, I took a new position and moved to the Peninsula.  He was not happy that we had moved from the City and we could never seem to talk through things without getting into an argument.  At the time I simply thought he was being an ass; thinking back I wonder if he was merely hurting as much as I was.  Anyway, our divorce was finalised and that was that.  How I wish it could have been different, especially for our girl.

Although many hurtful things have been said and done over the years, I am grateful that my girl has two beautiful sisters from his second marriage and a sense of family. We didn’t see much of them once we  moved to the country but now our girl lives in the city and they are making up for lost time. Father and daughter have formed a strong and loving bond for which I am eternally grateful. I miss my girl terribly but I feel absolutely blessed that she has her father to support, encourage and guide her.  A huge thank you wings his way.

When my girl was home for the weekend recently, we shared wonderful memories going through old photo albums of her father and I ... before our marriage, during our marriage, with our girl; we laughed and laughed at some of the ridiculous happy snaps.  She copied some of the photos onto her mobile phone and text her father; I am sure he must wonder why I would have kept these photographs but I am so very glad I did. Our girl now knows with complete certainty that there was a time when her Mum and Dad truly loved each other, were very happy and that she was born of love and is our greatest gift.

My marriage was most definitely a right turn, it just took a wrong turn along the way.

To our girl I say “I loved your father very much and in a lot of ways, I always will”

To my ex husband “Thank you for our beautiful daughter and for the treasured memories”

© Dianne Traynor

Twisting inside out - the “Goody Two Shoes” approach

I’m sitting on the porch and it’s cold but it’s fabulous; the air hangs with heavy fog, much like I have experienced my mind to be of late, and the light shines on my pad like a guide to my erratic thought patterns that are slowly becoming manageable.

Of recent times I have found myself incredibly angry, disappointed, frustrated and, to be honest, venomous toward others who I feel have lacked compassion, care and love; not only toward me but toward someone else I care deeply about.  This morning I feel as if I have spewed up all that is dark from within and the lightness is incredible.  Now before you start thinking I have “seen the light” and become all forgiving and accepting, it was more a “why should I give a fuck about you” kind of moment.

Like an eraser on a blackboard, or a landlord serving a summons on bad tenants, I choose to wipe them out of my days and nights for there is much my mind needs to concentrate on and they are not worthy of encroaching into that precious space.

Duty – four little letters that can cause utter chaos and havoc in a loving kind heart; a feeling that you must always do the right thing by all and sundry.  Well I think duty, when it comes to your inner circle, should be defined in terms of reciprocation, devotion, compassion and honesty.  If someone has not shown any of these traits toward you, regardless of relationship, do you owe them a duty of care? I don’t think so.  You see, I thought – or should say felt – you did and it was eating me up like a tiger from inside out because I could feel no respect.  So as I lived by my values and my beliefs, I was trying to assimilate their lack of values into my system and still care; it doesn’t work, it turns black like venom and it changes you against your will and, instead of achieving what you were aiming for, you turn into someone else ... someone like them.

I am always reading that it is not someone’s actions but your reactions to their actions that matter. Now there is no doubting this is true but you would have to be a cold hard bitch for some things to not upset you or get the better of you at times.  Are we supposed to be robots, devoid of emotion? The interesting thing is that lack of action can be just as devastating; cold hard nothingness, complete lack of care.  Now if this didn’t bother me or upset me, then I have just become that cold hard nothingness that doesn’t care.  So I choose to FEEL my reactions to their action, or lack thereof, BUT then I choose to throw it away like the garbage it is and move on.  And I will tell you something else I am finding strangely amusing this morning…

... those in question are often the fucking gurus preaching about not reacting – so now it all makes sense.

And by the way, why  would I want to take advice from someone who lacks compassion when it matters, who lacks the heart to love and forgive but preaches to others how they should? Oh, fuck off.

I am a lover of words and I am a great believer in their power; I find people that use words as a shallow tool to alleviate their own conscience despicable.  My mind wandered to the different types of people that inhabit our existence – there are those that could help others but don’t; there are those that cannot afford to help others but do; there are all sorts inbetween and we each have the right to choose which category we fall into and we each have the right to not respect others’ choices. Do we have to forgive those that have hurt us or lack care? Maybe, I am still debating that; but if we do, it is for ourselves rather than for them, because they wouldn’t care anyway in reality.  Do we have to like others’ choices? No, we don’t.  Do we owe them a duty of care? No.

So there you have it, I don’t have to wear “Goody two shoes” any longer; they no longer fit or feel comfortable.  Slipping on my more comfortable apparel, I accept that I am totally alone and I am okay with that.  I believe the Universe will protect me, she has done a damn good job so far.  The door is open ...

© Dianne Traynor  11 June 2012

Turning in circles

The low hum of chatter from the café across the road, followed by the clink of a china cup at the little restaurant where I am sitting, breaks my meandering thought pattern.  Laughter echoes through the slight breeze and I envy those sharing a moment with friends.  I find myself alone on a regular basis these days, apart from the never-ending cups of tea and visits to the hospital with my elderly mother whom I care for; it is draining, exhausting and the most emotionally and financially expensive endeavour I have known and my life feels permanently on hold.

Over time I have withdrawn, both from people and into myself, due perhaps to a feeling of helplessness or perhaps simply plain exhaustion from the position I find myself in; or perhaps because I am simply bored of selfish people. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sitting here feeling sorry for myself but rather enjoying a long black coffee and a gluten free pear and hazelnut tart but wondering how the hell life came to this.  Ever the Optimist I tell myself daily:

“Although the difficult takes time, the impossible just takes a little longer”

This quote has been such a source of strength for me since the day I first listened to a seminar of one of the most inspirational and courageous souls – Art Berg – to have graced this planet.  Whenever I find myself thinking the odds are stacked against me, I remember his story and tell myself to just “STOP” and I replay his incredible fight for life in my mind.  Earlier this morning, I watched a clip of another beautiful soul, taken on Christmas Day at the tender age of 18.  His whole life ahead of him.  Enduring 4 heart attacks in his short life, he was so positive and so accepting of what lay before him.  I ask myself, what right do I have to complain? NONE!  I am still here, I can still enjoy the rustle of the leaves and the chirping of the birds; whilst I can do that, there is hope.  Hope to overcome, hope to explore possibility, hope to find my place and purpose, hope to meet the love I will grow old with.

Today, a strange feeling is seeping from my pores. I’m not sure where this feeling is coming from or what exactly has triggered it.  Is it a kind of premonition of something about to occur? Strangely this happens to me, it has since I was a very young girl. Think me odd if you like, I no longer care, the truth is I experience feelings of connectedness to events that, at the time, I do not know are happening and I am left curious as to the meaning of these strange and unsettling sensations racing, or slowly surfacing, to only discover the reason sometime shortly thereafter or, at other times, much later on.

Despite all the difficult turns, I realise I am slowly taking steps to build the platform for the future I desire and, a little at a time, I am throwing caution to the wind, taking risks to believe I have something to offer the world and every time, every day, when someone I care about disparages my dreams, practices the art of criticism upon me, reminds me of their view of my uselessness, turns a positive into a negative, I take a walk amidst nature and tell myself “They are wrong” and I remind myself that I am a good person with a huge heart that has much to share with the world.

If anyone was to ever ask me should they care for their elderly parent, my answer would be an emphatic and resounding “NO”; the cost is too high, in real terms financially and unquestionably in life value.  What price do you put on your own life? If you care for a parent, your life is stolen from you, no ifs, buts or maybes.  I offer no apologies if I sound harsh; truth is truth.  The other truth is that you become filled with anger at your siblings that seem not to care and go about living their lives leaving you to simply deal with it all; it is like a poison that gets into your blood and works its way through your entire being.  Currently I am working on an antidote and although others may not agree with my methods, they are working for me and this is about survival, mentally and emotionally, so perhaps all is fair in love and war when it comes to life.

Right now the doors are closed to where I want to be; I have however chiselled a crack in the wall.  I put my mind’s eye up close against it and I see a different time, a different place, music, laughter, love, nature and creative pursuit and I remind myself of the first thought that came to me upon waking to this New Year…

“I have a good feeling about …”

© Dianne Traynor

The turnabout of unrequited love

They say you can’t fall out of love; that if you do, you never really loved that person in the first place. I wonder, perhaps it is not that you fell out of love; perhaps it is that your heart protects you from continuing to endure the pain of a love that is not returned, or at least not returned at a level that makes you feel loved.

You give and you give and you give.  You hurt and you hurt and you hurt. You laugh and you love and you hope. But there is always a niggling, an itch that can’t be scratched, a little voice desperately trying to be heard.  And then one day something happens and you simply can’t take the itch anymore.  Is this when the heart decides it is going to protect you from yourself? Draw the love deep down into the recesses and overlap it like a invisible blanket allowing you to begin living; to give the eyes rest from tears; to give the mind time to think of other things; to allow sleep to return; to remind you to love yourself instead of spending all your precious energy wishing for something that simply cannot be.

It would seem we can fall so deeply in love with someone that we see them for who we want them to be; for perhaps who we first imagined them to be and we make such huge allowances for when they disappoint, continually excusing what we would not accept from ourselves.  And if they criticise us, the cuts run so deep that your heart actually feels like it is bleeding internally; sometimes we vomit, sometimes we sink into depression, sometimes we just continue to berate ourselves for being so useless.  Is this love? Is love meant to be easy? I wonder.  Has anything I have ever truly achieved come easily? Or is it that the pursuit of love is difficult, rather than that particular individual who left you feeling less, empty, devoid of hope.  Then again, is it them that left you feeling that way? Or is it the expectations of your dreams that you deflect upon another and it is what bounces back that disappoints?

Another saying I often hear is that a person’s actions cannot hurt you; it is your reaction to their action that matters.  Hhhmmm, if I place a wishing veil upon this person then surely it is I that is setting up the hurt for myself … curious. So is the answer just to sit back? Do nothing? Wait?

It would seem that we cast our blanket of hopes out into the dating world embroidered with desires of shared values, beliefs, hopefully dreams and passionate pursuits and all that keeps coming to mind for me are the words “Like shit sticks to a blanket”.  Oh dear, time to fold up that blanket and put it away. I have decided that no expectations is the way to go; follow my own dreams of passionate pursuit, get heavily involved in what makes me feel good about myself whether it be a walk around the river, a swim at the gym, writing on the porch or watching some inane movie that makes me laugh until tears run down my face.

Is there a “he” out there for me? There very well may not be. But if there is, then I figure it’s time that he did some blanket throwing and I decide whether I want to take it for a spin or just merely sit back and watch it fly overhead.

I want love in my life but I want life in my love more.

© Dianne Traynor

A memorable turn

I often say “I am alone but not lonely; and I would rather be alone than lonely within a relationship.”  Although I stand by this statement, there are events that occur, or simply days, when your mind takes a turn and wanders down the laneway of loneliness.  I find it is at these times that you will feel like an outdoor cinematic feature is taking place in your head.

A thousand memories flash past, the highlights of upcoming attractions, before it all stops on the feature film and lands squarely on the face of the leading man. You will see a look that is so burned into your cells, that soft loving look that filled you with possibility and hope. Abruptly, the film skips as if to ward off the booing crowd for they (unlike you) know it was just a sham.

Your mind happily skates over the memories that simply don’t serve the atmosphere of love’s loneliness laneway to a time when he touched your shoulder and you felt like you were the only girl he had ever touched with such tenderness; to a kiss so deep you could see the beauty of every sea species as you sat cross legged on the ocean floor surrounded by swaying coral; to a time when he made love to you and the world stood still – no yesterday, no tomorrow – and you rode a white stallion of light to a different plane of existence. 

Suddenly your stomach cramps with hunger to feel it all again in this world, on this day…

One short step and the credits roll; your name is not amongst the cast.  Reality reminds you that you did not make the final cut for the role of leading lady, and a tear navigates its way over the curvatures of your face to drop like a petal amidst the leaves shuffling their way along the lane, like uninvited travelling companions. So you stop for a moment, pick up a pen, think of him and write…

"He is an enigma, intoxicating, like a fine wine; every drop to be savoured, and you can feel him as you read by the warm fire in your candlelit room"

Knowing he will never leave your heart, you close your pad, pick yourself up, turn your gentle amble into a trot, then a gallop making your way to the barely visible end of the laneway and decide which way to turn next.

© Dianne Traynor  2 June 2012