I couldn’t sleep last night, so after an hour of staring at the back of my eyelids thinking the same thoughts over and over I crept downstairs to have a rare couple of hours to myself in the living room, which these days is a space reserved for infuriating conversations with the kids about why they can’t just play on the PS4 all day and the overuse of the word “mum” ( approximate use 20 billion per day at varying levels of high pitched whinging).
I am going slightly bananas but I have so little right to complain given the fact that we have everything we need, we are in good health, and The Bearded One has even been able to continue working throughout lockdown (thank God cos his coffee slurping may have triggered his premature demise).
I love the kids but every day I hate them for a while aswell. I like myself but every day I wonder how I became the grumpy neurotic shell of a human i see scowling back at me in the mirror violently brushing her teeth to the soundtrack of her antagonistic spawn spitting toothpaste everywhere and kicking each other.
Anyway what I was going to say is that last night me and the tv had some quality alone time whispering to each other in fear of waking the other beasts that live here. It reminded me of when I used to creep in at 3am from the pub or wherever else I’d reluctantly got a taxi home from, begrudgingly allowing the party to end. I used to sneak back into my house and glare at everything that tied me to it, every responsibility, every commitment, everything that forced me away from the party and back to reality.
I would fall heavily on the sofa and fish out my phone from the depths of my bag, usually a frustrating task resulting in tipping the bastard upside down to defeat it’s trickery of hiding stuff from my drunk hands. At that point of the evening of course everything hated me and I hated everything. I would then spend an indeterminate amount of time searching for and listening to maudlin songs that would affirm to me what a sad state of affairs my life had become so I could have a suitably pathetic cry before eventually passing out in a pool of mascara tears. What a bitter, unsatisfied soul I was.
Last night when I sat half listening to the tv whispering to me I recalled all of those nights as I looked around the same living room that hasn’t changed much and yet feels completely different. I let my attention be caught by all the things that tell me that this is my home with all of my responsibilities and commitments, and I felt warm and safe instead of imprisoned and trapped.
I switched off the tv last night and opened YouTube on my phone and spent an hour listening to song after song that invoked big feelings of every kind, but there were no maudlin tears and once I’d had enough I went to bed to sleep.
This morning when I woke up and remembered my solo YouTube party there was no misery. I’d been alone but I wasn’t lonely or full of anguish. I no longer find it hard to sit with myself. I’m at peace with the decisions I’ve made, the shit that I’ve done and the life that I’ve made. All of the resentments I used to feel towards everything I couldn’t have any more have gone now that I’ve opened my future up to boundless possibilities. I was never going to find the stuff of my dreams in the bottom of a wine bottle, or a vodka bottle, or any bottle. Sitting on the sofa feeling sorry for myself was never going to get me very far either. Bollocks to that.
The party is over and I left it willingly 796 days ago (had to check my app). Every reason that I have to moan is also every reason I have to be grateful. I live with absolute arseholes who I love so much that it spills over into dramatic posts like this one every so often. I can’t imagine not being me, not being responsible for these infuriating kids, not being committed to the messy mass of sarcasm that is The Bearded One. If they didn’t need me anymore I’d lose a huge part of my identity.
I’m not really sure where I’m going with this post but maybe it’s just that I’m talking it out with myself that it’s perfectly acceptable to feel both love and hate towards my nearest and dearest and also towards myself, aslong as the balance is right so I don’t feel murderous. Everything is as it should be and we are doing a damn fine job of navigating our way through a strange and confusing world. I’m still excited about what the future holds even with a newsfeed full of bleak prophecies.