Words rarely fail me, in fact they are usually my friends, giving me access to many new worlds through book work, magazines and blogging. They have come to my aid at times of strife and times when I thought I couldn’t go on. Being able to use words; lay them out in a line of dots and dashes that made some sense of life when recreated as a blog post has been an escape route I have chosen many a time over the past few years.
Today I find myself unable to post positively on cooking and kitchen crafting, instead I am falling back on what I have done many times in the past, sharing the not so good areas of my life. Hoping that in doing so it will alleviate some of the weight on myself and maybe help someone else out there who is feeling the same or something similar.
Writing is like that really, all about the sharing of those little dots and dashes and trying to make some sense of them in our own hearts.
Last night at Idgy’s parent’s meeting I was taken aback and found that I had no words, none at all. They had failed me completely and left me speechless.
Waiting to see the English teacher was a bit like awaiting an audience with the head mistress back in the lower fourth when I was covered in ink.
I needn’t have worried regarding my girl’s work or ability within the class. She was doing nicely I was told, in fact here was a piece of her recent work that showed the natural flare of a born wordsmith.
I put on my specks and leaned forward with anticipation, prepared to read some literary masterpiece about dragons or super heroes, or some other such fantasy.
Imagine my horror when I read the title “The Day That Changed My Life” and read on with jaw dropping and tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
The heartbreak of an eight year old on being told of her parents separation – her feelings of exclusion, disappointment in me and preference for her father.
My heart pounded as I read on. Read about the ensueing years of hurt and missunderstanding, of loneliness and tears. My hands shook on the paper and I sternly reminded myself that I was a grown-up and probably twice the age of this young teacher, she must not see me cry.
Funny how you can be moseying along thinking the two of you are doing fine, there you are in your own little Gilmore Girls landscape, you are Edwina and Saffy, you are doing all right together, things are fine.
Then in the blink of an eye in reading this single heartbreaking page you realise in a moment that it was never as it seemed. Was any of it real?
So there I was in a classroom feeling far worse than I ever did in the lower fourth when you could just have a howl and get over it. I shook the woman’s hand and headed off for the next appointment in another classroom.
I come home and we eat and watch TV together. I compliment and praise on the work well done, the great reports and the words of encouragement, all the time hurting like hell and not really knowing what to say.
There are no handbooks doled out when you deliver a baby, you are meant to pick it up as you go along. No guru to guide when the shit hits the fan and you have to deliver the death knell of a marriage breakup to a little girl. You just get on with it as best you can and hope you are doing the right thing, though it kind of looks like I wasn’t doing too well in this case.
I just don’t know what to say.
So today there are no photos or food to start the day, just words, my friends those dots and dashes on a screen. I wish they could come to me now and tell me what to say to her and how to make it right.
Deep breaths and carry on. Smile and keep the chin up, all the time mind whirling in confusion and despair, thinking one thing over and over – The Day That Changed My Life.