As we come out to this 'new normal' whatever that means - I've been reflecting on what I can take away from this loooong time in the wilderness... Forgive me is this is a more rambling blog post than usual but I put that down to 1. My head is fried. 2. My head may always be fried.
Having spent lockdown watching the wonderful Normal People - it made me realise that there are so many conversations that we should have, but for various reasons, never do. How one little conversation could change the whole outcome of a relationship, even the outcome of a life. We shy away from being truly congruent with another person for fear of offending, or worse, being emotionally vulnerable and then we have to live with the consequences. Just imagine if Connell had told Marianne he had nowhere to live that summer? Or admitted to his mates he was seeing her whilst at school? If she had told him the truth about her tortured family life?
I think over the night the cruel dog breeder texted me asking me if I wanted some of her poxy overpriced calendars - and I refused, lying that funds were tight. She immediately assumed that meant we wouldn't pay her the £600 she had added on to the already eye watering price tag for a pup - which we had agreed to pay after collecting Cooper. Rather than have an adult conversation - saying - sorry to hear funds are tight, but you will still pay me, won't you?' she choose instead to suddenly withdraw the sale causing massive hurt and a whole wealth of recourse where we felt duty bound to report her to the Kennel Club, Champ dogs, the council etc. Anger fuelled me until it left me empty. One conversation - and everything maybe would have been different. It is incredible when you think that we pivot on these moments - that the chips could fall in many different ways, all depending on what people say - or rather don't say...
Imagine if everyone was just a bit more honest? How refreshing it would be. Instead lies disguised as pleasantries: 'We must meet up soon!' 'You look amazing....' 'I'll call you...' we all just said how we really felt. I read a problem page recently where a woman asked the agony aunt about how she should end a friendship - as every time she saw this old buddy, it was fractious with neither party really enjoying themselves and yet they persisted in this merry old dance. Emma Barnett gave some brilliant advice - where she suggested the woman actually calls her friend. I know. Terrifying. I choked on my wine as I thought about how awks this would be - had I been in her shoes. But also how wildly honest... and brave. Barnett suggested the woman simply tell the truth and wish her friend well, suggesting they no longer labour keeping in touch for the sake of things and cut ties accordingly. All very cheery amicable and sensible. Having wasted years on keeping some folk on the fringes of my life, I think this chop, rather like the haircuts we all desperately need - would be nothing but a bonus; if nothing else lockdown should have highlighted to us the things that are important in life and those that really aren't worth fretting over.
Which brings me to last week when a woman ran into me - sadly, in her car. I was in my car too I should add. It was a rainy tuesday and it was entirely this other woman's fault. I was so delighted that no one was hurt and that it wasn't MY fault for once in my life - that I decided to be to this woman how I would want someone to be to me... (Or rather how nice neil was to me when I totally his BMW in November '18). I was freakishly calm, I told her not to fret and when I returned home husband said he was surprised I hadn't invited her to dinner... (I would have but we both had just picked up our takeaway burgers).
Instead of being stressed and angry I just told the woman sincerely- that a car crash is no biggie. It is a hunk of metal and not to fret. I meant it. Anyway, the whole thing did turn out to be a huge pain in the arse - of course it was - with insurance and cars written off and hire cars and car tax and all that palaver - but all in all, I was pretty chilled about it compared to crashes of old. Lockdown has taught me two things - to let go of the stress, because really, most stuff is solvable. Two - be as honest as possible. During this whole house arrest, I found it nigh on impossible to get a second of headspace. Between home schooling, kids fighting, someone needing something urgently despite having nowhere to actually go, emptying the dishwasher twenty times a day and relinquishing my phone and computer so my kid could house party while robloxing - and screaming the house down as she did so - I got precious few seconds to think a thought to myself. I told my producers and they totally understood. I didn't want to hear about people who learnt french or how to crochet a plant holder or what not - I was surviving goddammit - just about.
If we can have the conversations we should be having rather than the ones we do out of duty, out of fear or out of saving face - then life would be so much simpler dontcha think? This all might have been born out of the fact that I read over all my old diaries for a project I am working on - and it was truly fascinating. I thought I was wildly mature, cultured and fairly balanced. I am a total fruitcake. Why no one on earth told me to stop mooning over a boy in Manchester who clearly didn't give a flying feck about me and get on with my life, I have no idea. I am tragically deep, boy obsessed, allowed to hang out with a tennis player for an entire night MID A-LEVELs and kiss a male model in London when I am 15. FIFTEEN! Heavens above. My son is now 14 and I am now locking him in the shed for the rest of his life. We are all virtually alcoholics before the legal age of drinking and I spent my life on a bus going somewhere in Belfast, usually The Empire pub, mates' houses and Botanic gardens. It is a wonder I have time for school. Anyway, I wish to god I could have had a word in my shell like and told myself there is a whole world out there and not to mope over a boy and instead to do some fecking revision. I did pretty ok in my A levels but I wonder what I'd have achieved if I hadn't been studying the morning of the exams... for the first time. The moral of the story - is there one? Well it all turned out ok in the end I guess, and boy I had a ball, (too much of a ball it seems) but did I have to write and tell every boy how I felt - begging them to put me out of my misery instead of seeing the writing in CAPITALS on the wall? If they'd had the balls to be honest and not string me along it would have saved a lot of tears and by the sounds of what I have written - a feck tonne of paper as well.
Honesty people. The conversations we never had. I say have them. Warts and all.
I dare you*.
CM x
*I take no responsibility if it all goes tits up mind.
Having spent lockdown watching the wonderful Normal People - it made me realise that there are so many conversations that we should have, but for various reasons, never do. How one little conversation could change the whole outcome of a relationship, even the outcome of a life. We shy away from being truly congruent with another person for fear of offending, or worse, being emotionally vulnerable and then we have to live with the consequences. Just imagine if Connell had told Marianne he had nowhere to live that summer? Or admitted to his mates he was seeing her whilst at school? If she had told him the truth about her tortured family life?
I think over the night the cruel dog breeder texted me asking me if I wanted some of her poxy overpriced calendars - and I refused, lying that funds were tight. She immediately assumed that meant we wouldn't pay her the £600 she had added on to the already eye watering price tag for a pup - which we had agreed to pay after collecting Cooper. Rather than have an adult conversation - saying - sorry to hear funds are tight, but you will still pay me, won't you?' she choose instead to suddenly withdraw the sale causing massive hurt and a whole wealth of recourse where we felt duty bound to report her to the Kennel Club, Champ dogs, the council etc. Anger fuelled me until it left me empty. One conversation - and everything maybe would have been different. It is incredible when you think that we pivot on these moments - that the chips could fall in many different ways, all depending on what people say - or rather don't say...
Imagine if everyone was just a bit more honest? How refreshing it would be. Instead lies disguised as pleasantries: 'We must meet up soon!' 'You look amazing....' 'I'll call you...' we all just said how we really felt. I read a problem page recently where a woman asked the agony aunt about how she should end a friendship - as every time she saw this old buddy, it was fractious with neither party really enjoying themselves and yet they persisted in this merry old dance. Emma Barnett gave some brilliant advice - where she suggested the woman actually calls her friend. I know. Terrifying. I choked on my wine as I thought about how awks this would be - had I been in her shoes. But also how wildly honest... and brave. Barnett suggested the woman simply tell the truth and wish her friend well, suggesting they no longer labour keeping in touch for the sake of things and cut ties accordingly. All very cheery amicable and sensible. Having wasted years on keeping some folk on the fringes of my life, I think this chop, rather like the haircuts we all desperately need - would be nothing but a bonus; if nothing else lockdown should have highlighted to us the things that are important in life and those that really aren't worth fretting over.
Which brings me to last week when a woman ran into me - sadly, in her car. I was in my car too I should add. It was a rainy tuesday and it was entirely this other woman's fault. I was so delighted that no one was hurt and that it wasn't MY fault for once in my life - that I decided to be to this woman how I would want someone to be to me... (Or rather how nice neil was to me when I totally his BMW in November '18). I was freakishly calm, I told her not to fret and when I returned home husband said he was surprised I hadn't invited her to dinner... (I would have but we both had just picked up our takeaway burgers).
Instead of being stressed and angry I just told the woman sincerely- that a car crash is no biggie. It is a hunk of metal and not to fret. I meant it. Anyway, the whole thing did turn out to be a huge pain in the arse - of course it was - with insurance and cars written off and hire cars and car tax and all that palaver - but all in all, I was pretty chilled about it compared to crashes of old. Lockdown has taught me two things - to let go of the stress, because really, most stuff is solvable. Two - be as honest as possible. During this whole house arrest, I found it nigh on impossible to get a second of headspace. Between home schooling, kids fighting, someone needing something urgently despite having nowhere to actually go, emptying the dishwasher twenty times a day and relinquishing my phone and computer so my kid could house party while robloxing - and screaming the house down as she did so - I got precious few seconds to think a thought to myself. I told my producers and they totally understood. I didn't want to hear about people who learnt french or how to crochet a plant holder or what not - I was surviving goddammit - just about.
If we can have the conversations we should be having rather than the ones we do out of duty, out of fear or out of saving face - then life would be so much simpler dontcha think? This all might have been born out of the fact that I read over all my old diaries for a project I am working on - and it was truly fascinating. I thought I was wildly mature, cultured and fairly balanced. I am a total fruitcake. Why no one on earth told me to stop mooning over a boy in Manchester who clearly didn't give a flying feck about me and get on with my life, I have no idea. I am tragically deep, boy obsessed, allowed to hang out with a tennis player for an entire night MID A-LEVELs and kiss a male model in London when I am 15. FIFTEEN! Heavens above. My son is now 14 and I am now locking him in the shed for the rest of his life. We are all virtually alcoholics before the legal age of drinking and I spent my life on a bus going somewhere in Belfast, usually The Empire pub, mates' houses and Botanic gardens. It is a wonder I have time for school. Anyway, I wish to god I could have had a word in my shell like and told myself there is a whole world out there and not to mope over a boy and instead to do some fecking revision. I did pretty ok in my A levels but I wonder what I'd have achieved if I hadn't been studying the morning of the exams... for the first time. The moral of the story - is there one? Well it all turned out ok in the end I guess, and boy I had a ball, (too much of a ball it seems) but did I have to write and tell every boy how I felt - begging them to put me out of my misery instead of seeing the writing in CAPITALS on the wall? If they'd had the balls to be honest and not string me along it would have saved a lot of tears and by the sounds of what I have written - a feck tonne of paper as well.
Honesty people. The conversations we never had. I say have them. Warts and all.
I dare you*.
CM x
*I take no responsibility if it all goes tits up mind.
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