January 2019 - A New Hope

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

There is something about the way 2018 ended, that has left me with the feeling that a new era is starting for me. I am almost 45, so not ancient or that young really, but a nice round number that certainly denotes I am, at best, somewhere around the middle of my life. That the time left is a precious resource that is starting to run out.

I lost a much loved Aunty towards the end of 2018. I feel weird for saying 'much loved' because actually, I hadn't really been present in her life in a meaningful way for years, and now I regret that deeply. I did love her though. She symbolised something for me - a certain kind irreverence, a difference from my parents, love, colour, fun. I had always told myself the story that once my Dad (who has Parkinsons, dementia and an ASD) died, I would reconnect with this Aunty and she would help put the world back into full connectedness. But of course, I have learned the saddest way that that was just a story I told myself and therefore not real. I used it to shape my behaviour and I had made the entire Goddamn thing up.

That is a deep and uncomfortable truth.

I cannot go back and right the wrong, and tell her the role I had imagined she would play.

That got me to thinking. What else am I missing out on, because I have told myself a story about the way things are?
How else can I show up in the world?
Time is literally running out.
I don't want to live my life in a comfort zone, because I actually need to do stuff that makes a difference. Even if that involves hard emotional labour and vulnerability.
I don't want to get to the end of my life and realise I have bullshitted myself, or at least kept myself in a comfy emotional cocoon.
Even if it's uncomfortable, I want to do the best I can.

 At her funeral, the celebrant said my Aunty wanted to be remembered through the following sentence: that the love of power could be changed into the power of love.

WOW.
RIGHT IN THE FACE.
I still can't say that out loud without tears.

 You know what though? I missed my chance.

But - ...over the six months prior to her death, I became really close with her daughter - and closer too with my only brother. It kind of feels like we have a new sister. That's an incredible gift. It's love and laughter and connection and acceptance and every single day, even if it's just a silly meme or something that happened at work, or an eye roll - it's magic.

On the evening of the funeral, we went out for dinner with our cousin and our Uncle - our Aunty's husband of many, many years- and he somehow created space to acknowledge the sore spot - the things I did not do and the ways I could have been better over time - and he found a way to open a new pathway to the future, without hours of 'he said she said' that would really only have diminished us all. It was an incredible gift. I don't know if he realises the power of what he did.

Then, a few days later, it was Christmas.
We did nothing but relax and hang out as a family, and it was utterly, UTTERLY brilliant. We're renovating our house so have no kitchen. We'd planned to just eat cheese, to be honest, but a neighbour got up and cooked us Christmas dinner. She didn't just make extra - she got up and made specifically for us, and her work partner bought - Christmas dinner with all the trimmings - just for us. What an incredible gift! I want to post how that made me feel, but it's hard to put into words. Grateful seems too small. So does loved - it was a profound kindness and one I will never forget. It made me cry.

Dom and I talked at length about how we could say thank you. A bunch of flowers just doesn't cut that kind of kindness. In the end, we decided the best way we could express our thanks was to pay it forward - so all 4 of us spent time on Christmas Eve afternoon helping at a Hull soup kitchen. We handed out clothing donations, trying to match the item with the need of the homeless person. It was the most wonderful way to spend Christmas Eve, and we all want to do more of that in the future.

I've also been reading Seth Godin, and Brenee Brown, amongst others. I'm in a good place. Optimistic. Wanting to get on with things. I'm older, and I like the person I am becoming. I don't care nearly as much about what other people think. The future feels exciting. Yes, I will balls up every day in a million small ways - but also I really know that nothing is perfect, ever. That's no reason not to do it.

Let's see what we can write on the blank book that is 2019.

Much love,