I had a pretty rough and depressing evening. I stupidly got angry at this blog because I couldn’t understand what it was for and I was only two posts in. I got turned down for more social occasions that are hard for me to even suggest because everyone else in my life is busy and has plans, which I really can’t blame them for. Instead, I blame myself for not being well enough to be thought of to involve in said plans.
Another thing that dawned on me was how much I use Facebook to vent and what a clot I must seem to my friends who still glance over my statuses (stati?) now and again. I ended up hacking away at my arm and my wrist just to remember what it is like to live and have blood that exists somewhere else and not in my mind….does that make sense?
The earlier comments are all of love and support but then, intriguingly (and retrospectively!) the comments turn to exasperation and sheer tiredness of hearing how P. Mistry-Norman cannot cope with life and how she can’t set foot out of doors anymore. One of my old school chums made the point that people are too consumed in their own lives and problems to give much of a damn about mine, which is true, I guess, but it took me by surprise and made me think on that worrying and depressing notion.
I wonder that with all the social networking sites swanning around nowadays like Facebook, Twitter and all the others, the blogosphere included, that to be more social on a cyber front, we all sacrifice our ability to see with our real and tangible eyes bit-by-bit or just switch it off. Every time I pay a visit to my immensely supportive GP, he asks me why so many people in his own university doctor experience feel so isolated and why people just can’t show that they care anymore. An intriguing thought…reflect on it for me and if you have any responses, leave a comment (see, I’m making social progress via the Interweb, yet I am still sitting in the same spot I have been for four days!).
Anyway, on to the title of this post, which I am sure you’ve noticed has had no relation to the prior words. For the classically educated among you, you may be able to translate the Latin which means “Love Never Dies”. I did not choose this phrase simply by typing into Google ‘cool quotes for blog post titles’ – no… If you are a friend you might be aware that I carry those words around with me everyday and they never leave me but for stepping into showers.
Those three words are on a ring, a silver band, that sits in perpetuity on the ring finger of my left hand. Strange choice of location, you might say, since that spot is generally reserved by society for the wedding and engagement rings. It was no accident that I chose to place it there.
My opinions on marriage tend to shock and surprise my friends and family but I am not ashamed of them at all. I have only ever been in one semi-serious relationship and I know and have known for four years that I will never be in another relationship as long as I live. Most people who say this are victims of rape or abuse, but don’t go imagining such fates for me, please, not when nothing of the sort occurred. For a time, I was happy, I lost weight, I felt alive but as everything does, it came to an end and I reflected on what I had learnt and experienced in the few months when I wasn’t single.
I am too independent for a relationship with another adult. I pride myself on needing very little social contact, mostly because very little is available and I’ve forgotten how to be around people, and I adore people-watching. Now, people-watching is something most people relish, even if they’re not impersonating Sherlock Holmes and trying to work out if the guy in front of them in some queue or other is an alcoholic. This activity has made me realise that so many people are treated poorly and give up so much of themselves in relationships and I’ve seen relationships play out and leave so much destroyed in their wake. If I were to sacrifice anything else of myself, I would quite literally be a shell and I have no desire to chain another human being to myself. I get enough love and attention from the characters that I bring to life in my mind (more on that later…).
Anyway, going back to those three words in a dead language and a time-honoured tongue. It is my wedding ring that sits on my finger, for I will never don a true wedding band so why let the space go to waste?
It reminds me that though I feel utterly alone 99.9% of the time, I have one love that will endure everything and is the one thing that constantly forces me to stay my hand when it is holding a knife and that is the love for my children.
‘Children? Children?!’ I hear you say and wonder how someone as twisted and unstable as me could possibly even consider being a mother to children. Well, the plain truth of it is, we all have dreams and so many people over the course of my life have scoffed at my dreams of one day just being a mother and having a real family to call my own and cling to. It is a shame that even hoping to have an alternative family is an offense to some sensibilities but even though I still keep a baby boy doll at the end of my bed just to remind me that I have to survive because my dreams aren’t out of reach yet, I still deserve the chance to have my undying love.
So many films and tv series that I have watched and thrown myself into focus on the love a man has for a woman and vice versa: the ultimate love story, but I beg to counter that a much sweeter story is of parents caring for their children because that is the only love which never dies, or it is – at least – to me.