Friday, 29 October 2010

Misery memoirs

It's an odd thing.
The last couple of weeks have been great.
I have been rushing around doing things that I love doing, with people whose company I enjoy. But I don't feel compelled to write about it.
Why is that?

I sometimes wonder how this blog makes me appear.
Yes, I have been through the trauma of R's death, and that was every bit as awful as you would imagine, and then some. But that has now been absorbed into me. It is as much a part of me as the fact that I have brown hair or love language or have to drink my morning coffee out of one particular cup.

But it is still so much easier to write about the bad times than the good.

The bad thoughts seem to tumble out of my head, through my fingers and onto the screen almost without thinking about them.
The good ones are much harder to write about without appearing smug or trite or irritatingly self-satisfied.

In my natural state I freely admit that I am one of life's Pollyannas. I like to see the best in people, and discover good things in bad situations. And it's true. Even in my darkest days it was still possible to smile at the absurdity of life or at little kindnesses shown to me. Or at the beauty of a sunset over the hills, or just the velvety ears of a dog who has stuck by my side through all of this crap.

I wish it was possible to simply will grief away.
Believe me, if it was, I would have done it. It is not for want of trying. Despite my monumental efforts to keep it in its box, it continues to seep into every corner of my life.

But that is not all that I am.
There are times that I feel there is a large "W" branded on my forehead, but deep down inside I know that it isn't really there. There is fun and laughter and song and dancing in my life too, along with all manner of other good things.

Perhaps it is time to start acknowledging those things and writing about them more, so I can start to believe they really exist, even without him.
There will still be bad days - I know and accept that - but maybe acknowledging the good things will allow me to truly absorb the fact that life can be good again. And indeed is.


  1. J, I only know you here and on the forum so, in response to: "I sometimes wonder how this blog makes me appear" -- I kinda knew you were a bit of a Pollyanna. I'd say with a hefty dose of common sense and a dash of scepticism.

  2. This is great. Sigh.

  3. How does this blog make you appear? I suppose every reader places their own emphasis on different aspects of your writing, but from my perspective, this blog gives me a sense of you being a person who loves life and wants to make the most of it, who is sensitive and considerate, who feels deeply, who likes to have a place for everything and everything in its place, and strives to do a proper job of whatever you set your mind to.