Making Me

One of the things that I'm learning, through loving David, is that I have to make myself.   I can't rely on anyone else to complete me.   That's something I have to do for myself.

This might seem self-evident, but for whatever reason, it seems to be something that I have assiduously avoided for a long time.   A long time?   Try all my life!   I've always looked outside my self to feel complete.   As though me, on my own, just isn't enough.   

And that might be true - I am not enough because there are so many things I don't 'do'.   I'm not a very good friend.   I don't think of others very much.   I don't have a joy of cooking - especially for others!   In fact, the thought of cooking for a dinner party is sure to put me into a state of nervous anxiety!   I live in my own little world, without much thought for what other people might need or want of me.

I know a lot of the people who read this blog will feel that polyamoury is just an excuse for David to continue looking for 'the one'.   That he can't really love me because he's still looking for someone who suits him better than I do.   More than one person has said to me, "I hear David has fallen in love with someone else" ... and so he has.   But I'm fortunate that he still loves me.   In what way, I'm not sure and it is this uncertainty about my 'value' as a person, that I think forms the basic insecurity I have about being loved.   My fear of losing what I have has sometimes been stronger than the certainty I have that I am loved.

It's easier for me to believe that I am not lovable.   Easier because that IS my reality.   I have been on my own for many years now and it's very rare for me to find someone who interests me, much less find someone who finds me interesting!  

I'm fortunate though that I've found friendship - both with Mark and Dick - two men who were in my life for ten years apiece.   What I have found with David makes me content - IF I don't start fantasising about what I would like it to be.   He's always been honest and up front with me and since I passed on that wonderful wisdom of, "Let the people IN your heart, know your heart", I feel more assured of not having any surprises jump out at me.   That's not to say that I don't brace myself a little every time he mentions someone he finds interesting.   

I'm feeling rather sentimental these days.   I'm not sure if it's hormonal or I am indeed going through 'a change of life'.   I used to be able to look in the mirror and think, "Not bad".   Those occasions are now much rarer.   It's a stand out moment these days to look at my face and see prettiness or loveliness.   Just lately though, there's been a glow there that comes from 'looking after myself' - from eating well (or at least better) and for taking the time to care about how I am and what I am.

There's a kernel of hope there, that I'm not lost.   At least, not lost forever.

From time to time I do acknowledge that I can't rely on David to nourish me.   I have to fill my own life.   To write my own story.   To nurture my own self.   Each time he reminds me that I am only a small part of his life (not in so many words, but that's what he's telling me), my stomach churns and tears spring to my eyes - a welling up of emotion at not feeling 'enough' love.   Dick once said to me, "Give you an inch Cheryl and you want a mile" and that is true - I always want more.   Life isn't happy enough, or rich enough, or stimulating enough, or easy enough ... I always want more.   Even when I put dishwashing liquid into the sink, I always think, "That won't be enough, I'd better give it another little squirt."   And of course, I always have plenty of suds.   But that doesn't stop me next time thinking that it needs that extra little squirt.

And so ... fate has brought a wonderful man into my life.   A man I love very much.   A man who brings me joy and who DOES make me feel loved.   

It's me who is jeopardising what we have, because in my eyes, no matter what he gives to me in the way of attention or time, I continue yearning for what he has told me he can't give me - his whole self.   Like the heroine of "Eat, Pray, Love" - I want to eat his soul.   I want to absorb him into me, to fill the gaps.   To obliterate the lack within me.

Occasionally I have wondered how I would have turned out, if I had had a different upbringing.   Different parents.   That, of course, is a pointless exercise because that is anybody's guess!

My god I am a late bloomer!   I keep reciting the mantra in my head, "I'm 55 years old and I still haven't ... (fill in the gaps) ... found a joy of loving / of cooking / of being a good friend / of doing fulfilling/satisfying work / achieved anything worthwhile / had an overwhelming orgasm ..."

Just lately, I have been feeling like I'm a failure.   Because of all that I haven't managed to do.   Sometimes it takes me forever to FINALLY have the revelation which starts me on the journey I need to take.   I always seem to have to hit rock bottom, before I can find my way back up.

I titled this blog "Being Fearless" and all I've seemed to do since I set out is to be fearFULL.   But then the fear is spurring me on.   I don't want to be so scared, so afraid.   I don't want this fear in my life.

I want to be joyous that I AM loved, to be grateful for what I do have, rather than focused on what I don't.

It's time for me to make myself.   To create ME!   To do the things I need to do - to cook, to clean, to make a life, to buy a house or a property, plant a veggie garden, make new friends, invite more love into my life, to WRITE!   To express who I am, to be more creative.   Just how long do I think I have?   I can't be waiting around for someone else to do this for me.   I have no allusions about wanting to achieve any great fame - to lead a revolution, or make a great impact - I just want to be satisfied and fulfilled and challenged (and to meet that challenge).

Many years ago, when Mark and I were going through a bad patch and were living apart temporarily, he sat me down and said, "Cheryl, you just have to be responsible for yourself" and I honest to god, cried out in pain, "I can't bear it, I really can't - I'd rather die!"   And then of course, I laughed.   I'd rather be dead, than responsible for myself?    I'm sure you're laughing out loud now too.   That was probably 20 years ago and I've still been trying to avoid it!

Mum made it easy for me.   She would totter over to the cabin, for those couple of years that I lived at Montrose, and give me the odd $50 or so and like the weasel I was, I took it and bought chocolate bars and hummous and comforted myself because I was living such a miserable life.   As long as she kept bringing fifties, I keep on giving myself comfort.   I used to have the image in my mind of a giant baby bird, still in the nest when its parents were in their dotage - squawking, "Bring me food, bring me food!"

That all changed on 4th August last year when my mother died.   I finally had to grow up.   I'm so ashamed of that person - that me.   Why have I avoided making myself a better person?   It's humilating to be sitting here now, typing this, admitting that I've just wasted so much of my life.   Sitting on my arse, fooling myself!   I am a great disappointment to myself.

I can't remember whether it was Freud or Jung who said, "Change only comes after a short, sharp shock" (or words to that effect), and so it is that uncertainty and fear that I've experienced in the past several months have FINALLY focused my attention on what it is that I have not achieved in my life.   Hallelujah for that!   About time!

So ...

I am about to embark on a small journey of exploration.   If you believe that your house is symbolic of your life ... I am going off for several days tomorrow to find my wreck of a house so I can bring it back to life and let it sing again.   And through that nurturing of the house, I hope to find a better version of myself.