Singular becomes Plural

Well, this is a turn up for the books.  Or perhaps I should say 'be careful what you wish for'.   I have wished for respite from the seemingly unending suffering time and time again.  Why the reprieve now?  As my students, not readers of this blog I should imagine, would say, post hoc analysis is inadequate.  It would be convenient, as life seems to be going my way for a change, to attribute my actions and good fortune to some plan we all know really happens.  But does it?  Have I done my time in Heart Break Hotel, or even just thinking such thoughts, has the Man with The Big Book got me on a list to knock me down to size when he's a bit bored again.

It is difficult to justify good fortune when you have survived .  In truth all I survived is a broken heart.  Physically I am untouched, I live in relative comfort, and safety.  There is much to be grateful for, even if at the time it seemed insurmountable.  It would be all too easy to live scared and desperate, but you will never believe what has happened to me: I am happy.  I am also happy in a relationship with a man.

It does feel that the world has turned on its axis.  To become part of the Noah’s Ark world that I was excluded from but 6 weeks ago, to slip into ‘us’ not ‘me’ so easily, somehow feels like I am belittling the status I had and was trying to live with.  I suppose the idea that I was wrong, that there was someone out there for me, and he fails so many of the criteria I thought were vital for a partner, entertains others.  It makes me rueful.  For all my much discussed apparent knowledge of the world and myself, what did I know?  If I’m not careful I could talk myself out of the contentment that bleeds in round the edges, and that would be an appalling shame.  For to allow that would be to turn on the good that has been wafted my way, and yet still there is part of me that wonders ‘why me’ and ‘when will  it end?’ and most damagingly ‘does he really know what he has taken on, and when he realises, will the nightmare begin again?’

I’m sure you’ll shouting at the screen, dear friends of the blogsphere, but making sense of this life is something of a trial for me, as I’m sure you’re aware.  Can I really do relationships?  Have I anything to offer anyone that is really me, or have I created these artificial personnas to show the world, allowing me stay that safe and hurting child within?  Do I really want to let anyone in, and would I know what to do when they got there?

Well I can try.  I want to try. The heart that beats so rashly is beating strongly, chasing the fearful child around, but I suppose I’m surprised by how hard this is, making a new relationship.  The one thing I am certain of is I don’t want to rush things.  I have a dear sweet friend who has been through her own circles of hell when it comes to loving and losing men, and it happens that she has found herself newly enraptured by a suitable man.  This man clearly is besotted and adores her, and she seems overwhelmed by all he is, but already they are talking about living together, ‘when’ rather than ‘if’.  I have to confess my blood ran rather cold at their impetuousness.  Having held her hand and hanky through the last break up I marvel at her resilience and drive to have another go.  However equally the little voice that so haunts the back of my mind repeats ‘it’s too soon, how can they know, what will happen when the passion dulls, just that little bit?’ 

I suppose what frightens me are the structures we create of our relationships.  The idea that two people , who, not many weeks ago were unaware of each other’s existence, now think of what ‘we’ like, gives me pause for thought.  And makes me reflect on my broken marriage and perhaps allow me to comprehend that with new eyes.  We, the Absent Father and I, created that edifice that consumed us both.  The people we thought we were, and perhaps more importantly, other people thought we were, became shells for the real people to hide within.  We had that early heady stage, that mad passion, then the establishing and the commitment made both publicly and privately.  At what point did the relationship not reflect, support and comfort us both? When did the people we thought we were become just roles?  Did I disconnect to survive, as the Absent Father said in as many words when he used the phrase ‘I felt so alone’?  Yes, it sounds like I’m blaming myself alone for the break-up of my marriage and we all know that is nonsense, but in this new phase of my life I wonder about the dangers of playing a role.  As ‘me’ I have been able to change or not, experiment with notions, explore possibilities.  As ‘us’ do I have to be fixed as acceptable, is my appeal limited to who I am now, not who I may become as a result of the relationship?

It’s all about trust, I fear, and that’s the problem in a nutshell.  Do I trust myself to be myself, do I know how to be myself and after such appalling deception and deceit, will I ever believe that this good fortune is mine and can I have peace at last, at the end of our rainbow?