(This
is a blog written a few years ago, then not posted due to worrying
about what certain parties might feel about it… time has now passed
and so it’s fine. It’s totally fine, isn’t it? Well it is.
Also, it’s surprisingly positive of tone, I think, and shit is shit
right now, so why not flashback to something good before we get to
the current scene. Also also, I’ve not finished any new ones and
wanted to post summat.)
Five years
and nine months ago I had sex with a woman, and roughly nine months
after that a little person came out of the woman with whom I, as
previously stated, had had the sex with. There followed a
period of that happy family business you would normally associate
with those who had sired children, but unfortunately it was a
relatively short one punctuated by moments of uncertainty, resulting
in a situation very similar to the current status quo. So, as
you may have worked out using your fingers, that child has just
turned five, which as well as being a fair bit longer than I thought
I’d be able to keep something more complicated than a houseplant
alive for, is the starting point for this blog.
I tend not to
write a lot about my spawn, aside from the odd mention here and
there, partly because I am aware it can be crushingly dull for those
without children, and partly because it doesn’t seem fair to keep
an online account of her movements without her permission. As
there are large chunks of her time in which she genuinely seems to
believe she is a cat, I don’t feel she is ready to green light such
things.
The
other party invested in this small person is now married to a lovely
chap, and the majority of the offsprings time is spend at theirs,
with an every other weekend and one night a week arrangement allowing
me to be as involved as is both possible and convenient for all
parties. As such, on her birthday proper, my heir was with her
mother and step father after the school day had finished, and I was a
visitor. It is an odd thing to walk in to an event that you had
always hoped to be an integral part of – throughout its entirety –
and know that just as it has started without you, it will continue
perfectly happily after you depart. Not depressing or life
breaking, not disastrous or damaging. Just odd.
There
is a role that a parent, mother or father, takes on day to day, that
is unshakable in every mundane action, and this role feels especially
important and rewarding on key events. First day of school,
Christmas, Easter, holidays away, birthdays. When either parent
enters any of these events as a guest, in some respects an outsider,
with their role being represented by another, then no matter how fine
and nice and normal and totally ok everything is, that visiting
parent feels a bit hard done by. Slightly uncomfortable or
detached. Arriving to find yourself and your family enjoying a
precious moment, before remembering it’s not you because you’ve
just arrived, it’s someone else, and hang on, what? Oh yeah,
that’s right.
A
mild undercurrent of a sensation, but a sensation nevertheless. Even
as someone in touch with the fact that things change and move on –
someone comfortable with the idea that it’s perfectly normal to not
be what used to be thought of as perfectly normal – there are still
moments when ones sense of importance and entitlement allow for the
seeds of self pity and creeping melancholy to sprout. An
internal reminder of how life works kept things in perspective
though, and even though creeping melancholy looks lovely this time of
year I didn’t let it take over, because, well because basically I’m
brilliant. It is off the back of the last blog on change that
this event came to mind, because there has been a lot of it in the
last few years, both outward and inward. Not so long ago
the events described above would have most likely sent me spiralling
into a beautifully self indulgent world of pity and distress. As
if I was actually important. It’s proving much healthier to
be aware of the gentle awkwardness of such situations – and the
feelings attached – to be honest about them to myself and others.
Crucially
though, it is not worth fretting over, not worth dwelling on and,
most importantly, not worth letting such fretting, dwelling and
related nonsense negatively effect what is yet to come. Things
change but they don’t have to change me for the worse, or something
less sick-in-my-mouthy, but with the same basic message.
(It’s
worth mentioning that this floaty, understanding, calm, sage-like
point of view has pretty much fucked off with all my hopes, dreams
and security. So it’s likely that the new posts will be less
contemplative and more ARRGGHMAGARGH. Just FYI.)
0 Comments