At times I get caught by the strangeness of
my life. At some point there was a map etched out of how it might look. Not a
heavily inked map, but traces, roads, some signposts indicating direction. Gary
and I working part –time, travel at some stage, weddings on the lawn, possible grandkids.
While driving up the road to Timaru last
week I passed the Shag point picnic spot where Gary proposed. An image and the
feeling of that young girl who I once was rose up and stayed with me strongly.
At the time of the proposal it was cold and dark and we had already told Alison
and Ray that we were engaged, but somehow along the way we worked out that
there was no official proposal. So Gary in true Gary fashion stopped the car at
Shag point and said he needed to get out to pee. He asked me to keep him
company (and no I didn’t think this was strange). I was reluctant because of
the cold, but got out of the car. As soon as I got out he dropped to one knee
and said ‘will you marry me’ I pretended to joke and said yes yes now lets get
in the car. Inside I was secretly pleased but didn’t know how to say that. We
always tooted on the way up and down the road passing it. A tradition was
started.
What
I reflected as I travelled up the road this time was all the different parts of
us that we carry around…the stories the memories, the bodies and the people
that travel with us. In that moment as I came down the hill and the sea opened
out before me…time stilled and all of those things were present. It was
unsettling and settling at the same time, not a space to make sense of, but one
to sit in and be with. It was a split second and a life-time. I also thought of
how many years it took me to honestly communicate my feelings and emotions
instead of avoiding, bottling and then over-sharing far too emotionally, and
how wasteful all that was. I am grateful for the opportunity afforded to Gary
and I for the chance to practice just this, let the dross go and really see
each other clearly.
While in Timaru, I walked down a street filled with Banksia trees. The Banksia has been my symbol tree for a while, I
like how they regenerate after fire, that they flower in winter and Tui seek
them out. On returning to where I was staying, I smelt cinnamon as I walked
past the hospice and remembered why they burn essential oils. I can’t remember place
names at the moment (brain overload from study) but I can remember that. The scent
of cinnamon and knowledge of death sitting with me. No real reason for
mentioning this other than the night was warm, I was relaxed and happy to have
been walking and then the smell of cinnamon essential oil, which bought
different stories together in the same frame. Holding all parts of self.
This holding all parts together is where I
sometimes trip up. The trouble with communication and relationship is that we
always bring ourselves with us and as I have discovered recently my past selves
are quite noisy, they rise up with their own narrative demanding attention and
creating more stuff for me to work through. A constant process of passing
through the eye of a needle and feeling the need to be brave. My wee scared
tired self has been claiming a lot of space lately. It’s time for confident Kat
to come back, the one who can own her own life with confidence, build her own
dreams and trusting in the process of their creation.
This year I have met and am dating someone .
This unexpected happening has spiraled me in all directions, tipped me up and
made me question and look for answers to so many things I thought I had dealt
with. I realized after Gary died that a huge amount of my identity and
confidence came from being in relationship with him and my role in the family.
When that changed I lost a sense of who I was, how I did things and in a way
what mattered. From what I have read about grief this is not unusual. I also became
aware that I developed a number of very slack habits, things I would never have
allowed, I noticed them but thought really who cares? It’s just me. After 23 years
of raising kids and being strict ,I felt a little tired. Hana commented at the
bench recently that she was glad. This said with a smile and she said she
wished I was less strict when they were younger. Funny isn’t it, there is
always the feeling that you are not doing enough and that strictness and
manners will somehow keep them safe. I do like seeing them be polite though and
meet and greet properly.
So here I am unexpectedly in a new
relationship and facing myself in what I feel is my ‘unglory’. I feel like a
lab rat with a dozen ears turned outwards for the slightest anomaly.
I have had to get over myself big time, get
over the feeling I was having an affair, accept my aging body (the biggest
hurdle- still working on that one), and am learning to communicate all over
again with a new person in healthy way. So much of communication in a long-term
relationship relies on body language or the unspoken. In a new one these things
need unpacked. I have reverted at times to communication styles I haven’t used
in years and not good ones. It seems as if they were waiting in my memory closet
just to jump out and trip me up. Or at least remind me that I don’t want to go
back there. It has been good learning but boy so much of it. It is very weird, painful and lovely
simultaneously.
I am back again with Brene Brown, rereading
her words on shame and vulnerability and learning to live with all of ourselves
in order to live a wholehearted life. Starting to work out what it means to practice
self - compassion and self- love. When I get that right well… I will let you know;
think it might be a lifetime project.
And if you are wondering… of course he
is very lovely (and very patient). I
know for a fact that I have excellent taste in men and the person I am seeing
is no exception to that rule.
