In spite of all my good intentions, I appear to be in a creative funk. Having made no progress with my writing, no sewing, and not even started reading the book I've got lined up (Stewart Lee, The Perfect Fool), not keeping up with this blog is the least of it all. Having said that, I've been active with other things, the house is in reasonably good shape, and the dinners have been healthy. Perhaps worldly achievements are the destroyer of creativity. I'm going for a fresh start with this blog though, and we'll see if I keep it up, otherwise it will be time to knock it on the head. I think it's worthwhile because having re-read it, there are so many things that were good that I would have forgotten. It's that simple, life moves on, and I forget. I hope it will be like photographs. No initial value, in fact rather embarrassing on the taking, but warm and meaningful a few years down the line. 'Preserve your memories, they're all that's left to you', who said that? Oh dear how cheesy.... just as well I haven't been writing then.
Yesterday, Nick was showing me some old photos he had scanned into his Archos portable gizmo. There is just one taken of me in Tunisia, seven years ago. I look happy, relaxed and, well, like I felt at the time competent, approachable and present in the world. There are several of me in America, two years later, after the onset of .....whatever happened. I'm still smiling, although in a strained way, the set of my body is all wrong, as though I've been populated by someone else. I hadn't seen the illness in pictures before, and there it was, projected onto our flat screen 40" HD TV. I have come to the conclusion that the woman from 2002 has gone forever however much I love her, want her and belatedly think that she was pretty. Perhaps she's still there, walking on the bones of the ancient Carthaginians, speaking rudimentary French, eating egg spiced with harissa paste. I think I might have been waiting for her to arrive with her souvenir olive plate. Time perhaps at last to welcome the body's new owner. As Nina says, spend enough time with someone, you get to like them a bit.
As I sit here, half an eye on the truly rubbish film 'Legend of the Seeker' that Nick is watching (I hope the lead actress' breasts get their own credit, they play their role the best in all of the film), I'm trying to think of positives about the new me. I could do with naming her, and in fact, for the first time since I was eighteen, I'm thinking of going back to being Delia. I say that softly though, I still don't like the name enough. This is a distraction from the task of finding the positives. I'm struggling. I think this is known as low self esteem and if I was forced to do this in some therapy group, I would be weeping by now. Say something good about yourself. One good thing. Go on, just one, the tutor will say. She is wearing clothes from Per Una at M&S. Most women in the end go for, 'I think I'm a good Mum', the trainer smiles and everybody applauds. The chosen woman is relieved and the spotlight shifts to the squirming female -we're almost all female - on the next stackable plastic chair. Heaven help her if she's childless, what's she to come up with? Oh but what am I to come up with now, at this moment? I have just sent H out with her girlfriend and £10 for lunch. It is 3.30 in the afternoon. They spent last night and this morning in Nina's double bed. watching horror DVD's and no more than that, I hope, but secretly think otherwise. I don't think I'm a good Mum. OK at best. Ah, I'll say then that I have a good sense of humour. That ought to move the group along. You want evidence? Look at this blog you fools. Oh, and did I mention patience 'cos I'm brill at that too.
I'm still on the chair squirming, soon, I'll be offered tissues, taken outside and kindly asked if I'm Ok to continue. I am Ok to continue as it happens, but still stumped. All that is called to mind is the negatives, worse teeth, glasses, bigger belly, reduced attention span, lower IQ, poor social skills, lack of initiative and drive...and on, and on. If I can look even a little of that in the face and let it go, I can make a genuine offer of; better at managing money. I can support that one, we live on half the money we earned five years ago, and everything is a lot more expensive. I am managing the money and we are keeping afloat. I am economical, prudent, and more grateful for what we have than I ever was. The new me is better in that respect. She's more generous too, giving to charity quite often, consciously giving to a good cause. It brings her pleasure. She used to give quite ostentatiously for the sake of social standing, now she thinks of what she gives to. When she sees someone forlorn and begging, she gives. She used to hold forth on the benefits of giving to charities for the homeless as opposed to giving money to individuals who are likely to use cash to harm themselves further with alcohol or drugs. Now, with the insight of how bad things can get, how someone might need to drink to relieve immediate suffering and that this is as important as the illusory possibility of a bright future. She's more aware of the cold too, and the craving for hot tea. Looking it all in the face, I am more frugal, more generous, and softer. Who would like to have a go next?
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