Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Bring change

I have blogged before, using a different name and exploring ideas and themes that lit the idealistic rage within.   I used to connect it with Twitter even.  I thought I was stroking the thwarted journalist within - that self-same media junkie who bowed out of the post graduate programme because I was sick of having no bloody money.  (And then, to douse irony with cliche, went in to PR.)

But I stopped.  It was partly to do with the spooky attention I attracted from various members of the dairy cow conversion lobby (for and against).  And partly to do with my own desperate attempts to stand up for something or hide behind nothing, which, let's face it, a non de plume blog with two followers (one of whom is family) is not.

Truth be told, 'free-ranged' is much the same.  It turns out my blog evolution is microscopic in two very pertinent ways: I'm still hiding; I'm still lounging.

I began 'free-ranged' because I thought that if I spent my evenings on the laptop too, it would ease the resentment of watching him tap away night after night. It doesn't.  Anymore.

Also, my summer read was Backwards in High Heels.  I enjoyed the writing 'voice' so much I Googled the authors and discovered Tania Kindersley's blog, which I liked very much and very much wanted to emulate in a muddled sort of a way.

Of course, the blindingly obvious problem is, I'm not her.  I'm me.

I haven't got anything to say that excites me or anyone else.  I've forgotten half the vocabulary I once knew and used fluently.    And if I reveal the real me, this blog will be even more bleak and self-indulgent than it has become since February.

I don't really do anything, and I day-dream my way through the rest - mothering my children, keeping house.  I know mothering your children is important, I just happen to be one of those people who gets a bit lost in the process, especially when there is no respite, especially when how unlikeable you have become is etched into the faces of the people you live with.

I saw my mother almost daily since she was first diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour four years ago, until she died last month.  (She lived with us for nearly a year.)  She needed me and I wanted to be there for her, but sometimes I was just so freakin' tired; so over being needed for anything.  And now, of course, my time with her has ended, and even though I knew it wasn't forever, I didn't always do my best by her.

I need to be able to put that somewhere, to process it, but my three children are like newly hatched starlings bobbing in the nest.  They want, want, want what I can't seem to give.

It's a recurring theme.

Recently, a supportive friend said, "But you have your blog."  But if this is my value-based redemption, I am in  serious trouble.  This pish-pash of trying to be engaging and interesting, while channelling someone with an extremely dull life, is worse than a diary because I cannot bring myself to say all the truly awful things that need to be said, on record.

How's that for ducking and weaving?  How's that for obfuscation?

When I dream of respite, I dream of being alone, and very, very still.

At other times, I picture myself driving a ridiculously expensive car far, far away from here, way too fast and listening to something like this, really LOUD.


Anonymous said...

This is a really touching post. It's hard to articulate why we keep blogging, but if it means anything to you, I really loved this post - it feels like a real glimpse into your world. It sounds like things are really hard right now. Take it easy on yourself.

Steerforth said...

You sound exhausted. It must be hard enough to cope with the aftermath of the earthquake without the added trauma of witnessing your mother's death. Normally you'd be taking stock and finding a breathing space, but how can you do that with three children?

The urge to get in a fast car and drive away is a common reaction to stress and grief. I went to Iceland for a few days and spent days wandering alone through empty, desolately beautiful landscapes. It wasn't the answer, but it helped.

It sounds to me like you need some time on your own, even if it's only one night in a hotel in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere where you can get some peace and quiet.

I know what you mean about blogging. The things you really want to say are too personal, too intense, but on the other hand it's hard to write light-hearted posts.

All I'd say is, don't give up. Give yourself time to grieve and your readers will still be waiting for you when you come out of the other side of the tunnel.

Tattie Weasle said...

Whoa! Take it easy. You are exhausted and you should be. Don't be hard on yourself. Not now. You are great you just don't see it that way. You've looked after your mum, your looking after the children your running home your coping with the aftermath of an earthquake that is one he'll of a lot. It really is. And as for not sounding as you think you would like to sound on your blog, you sound better because you are just you. It doesn't matter if sometimes you write things that seem boring or bad, I do. My life is dull a lot of the time usually I am too tired and it's ok. You actually have a wonderful voice, I like it and I bet others do too. Be yourself, no editing, you sound great. Even now...

Michelle Trusttum said...

Yes I Like That, Steerforth and Tattie - my apologies for not acknowledging your comments earlier. I felt a little shy: like I've jumped up and down and made a big fuss, and then three very kind people said, 'Yes, I'm listening.'

Your thoughtfulness from across the globe is uplifting and humbling.

Yes I Like That - I am so glad you connected with the post in some way. I think you are doing cool things with your blog, so I take it as a complement that you found something in my disjointed ramblings.

Steerforth - I think you are right. I do need a little time away. My husband has just been to Melbourne for work, and then whipped down to Dunedin this weekend for three days to watch England vs. Argentina. If I was in denial about how exhausted I was before, I'm damn straight now!

Tattie - I've always tended to the hair shirt end of the continuum and yes, not with great success. Need to flip the vinyl...

Thank you. x

Tattie Weasle said...

Flip the vinyl if you must, but only because you want to!
Take greatest care
Tattie x