Posts Tagged ‘control’

 

House Arrest

Thursday, July 7th, 2011

I’m still living in the family home. Some say I’m lucky. Some say I’m spoilt. Some say I should be grateful that I still have a beautiful house to stay in and that it’s a good thing the divorce is taking so long …

But that’s not my reality.

Yes, there’s no doubt that I am lucky – I have a superb life in the spaces between the angst, the drama and the hopelessness. My reality is that I am living in my wrecked marriage and that the boundaries I have to keep putting up revolve around the fact that my space is still steeped in everything to do with my husband. There isn’t a place I sit, a cup that I pick up, a knife that I use or a pot that I cook in that hasn’t been bought together, used together and touched by him. But so much more relevant than that – and even more damaging – is the enormous element of outside control that comes with staying here … a sense that I am expected to remain the obedient wife, a feeling that I still have to put the needs and emotional well-being of my estranged husband above my own. And the sense that somewhere in this inability to disentangle, lies a child who has security issues around where he is likely to be living.

I sit here on my balcony pinned between two magnificent mountains, while my child tears around the garden with his friends and plays rough and tumble on his trampoline, and I am grateful for my home and my time alone. And I know that when I am sitting in my apartment with a view of the adjacent building through windows that don’t allow the sunlight in, I will chastise myself for ever wanting out of here. So this is my reminder when that time comes … my reminder that wherever it is that I move to, it will contain me as me and not me as we.

Crisis or calling?

Tuesday, August 31st, 2010

At a time when I am learning who my friends are … or rather who my friends aren’t … I am learning other lessons that I would rather not and more and more I am becoming disillusioned with life’s textbook. In the process of discovering the extent that social norms dictate the opinions of others towards what we choose to do, I can’t help but notice how much it scares people when you do something out of the ordinary … it shakes up their ideals and makes them wonder how fallible their own nucleus is.

When we are children we are told over and over how to behave, what not to do, that we are being naughty when we are just being children, what constitutes the overly-important word: polite … and we are smacked or punished when we don’t conform. We are, in a nutshell, controlled until our natural instinct for life is sapped and we become clones of this Borg-like social colony that obsesses over the size of their TV, their bank balance and the latest SUV.

Not surprising then how if you sit still for long enough and listen to your heart’s strongest desires – when you choose to follow a path that doesn’t fit the norm – you are not honoured or revered. It’s just not part of what we have been taught as children. People think you’re a problem; they accuse you of having a midlife crisis if you are remotely close to ‘that age’ … and sometimes your therapist even asks you to check your hormones. You become the person people tut about while they wonder if you’ll ever get a reality check.

But whose reality exactly?

I think about how my child, since he could string a coherent sentence together, spoke maturely about his ‘other family’; the one with the brother called SiscoFranco and the father from Spain and the mother from Paraguay … or was that the grandparents? He will be able to remind me because the story has always been the same, which makes me believe that, at his age when he can’t even remember what he had for breakfast immediately after taking his plate to the kitchen, there has been no embellishing. Children are so close to the spirit world that they need encouragement to find who they are now, while they still know why they came and why they chose you … although my child has always stuck to his story that he chose me because no one else was available!

It is a cruel society that shapes our children to fit a mould rather than encourage them to find their own unique fit.

Sure, I’ve been on the other side, blaming people for either taking too many drugs, being in lala-land or possibly just not getting enough sleep. But now I am here, I realise how profound it is to give up the norm and be quiet enough with myself to access what exactly it was all those years ago that brought me into this world in the first place.

Whether out of compassion or ignorance, people tell me they hope I find out who I am. But I have always known … of course I have. We all have an inner knowledge of who we are; it just isn’t necessarily the person people feel comfortable knowing.

It is not so much about change. It is about finding your way back. It is about ‘un’change.

Destiny … in three parts

Thursday, March 18th, 2010

Part 3:
There are no guarantees. You can chose to have or chose to not have but either way these things just take their natural course. I still have no idea how my child managed to find his way into my life when I think how one moment in a then 13-year relationship changed my entire life … and then turned it upside down.

A very old friend of mine shared her story of how she spent years choosing to not have a baby. When she got married she decided to try and their precious baby arrived within the year – something that is almost unheard of these days. After being so lucky the first time around, she and her husband faced the enormous decision of whether to have a second. The answer was a resounding YES (YES, YES … !) That was over three years ago.

You can’t control these things; you just have to live your life as best you can without any regrets. This whole vibe is just some kind of surreal journey that takes us down random routes … and without even a GPS.

Children of friends

Thursday, February 11th, 2010

I’ve never really found myself bothered to get to know the children of my friends … that is, until I stayed with friends with children without my own child. And I really got to know them.

There is a definite shift when you don’t have your own child around as your entire focus moves from making sure your child is polite, doesn’t wreck anything, hurt anyone, spill anything etc etc …

I was on holiday and that helped – no routine and a stress-free existence of not having to jump as soon as there were tears and it was someone else’s problem when there were cries of “mummy, mummy’ in the night. My friends were worried I couldn’t sleep with the disturbances but, honestly, it was bliss. If only I could feel like that when my own child is around. I’m sure the world would not stop spinning if I just cared a little less about all those ripples when something sets him off.

Let him just be? I could try.

CONTROL

Tuesday, September 16th, 2008

I challenge anyone to prove to me that smacking your child shows more control that not.

The reason I don’t smack my child because I was beaten as a child … so perhaps I can’t be totally rational about this. This is, it was my parents’ attempt at gaining an element of control when they thought all was lost. They used this as their way of showing that they had the control. I believe not. I believe that the point a parent crosses that line is a point where all control is lost – by the parent – as well as a fair amount of trust and respect by the child. Parents think (well, mine did) that using the wooden spoon, leather slipper and cane remove them from the pain inflicted and thereby absolves them of their guilt.

Having said that though, I can’t help but wonder whether, in holding back that anger that produces the lashing, the anger finds a less resistant route and finds a way to hurt in even deeper ways.

Something to ponder. But in the meantime I cannot slide that slippery slope. I cannot bear to lose my child’s trust and most of all, I cannot even comprehend hurting that perfect being no matter how much abuse he throws at me. How do they learn so quickly, not only where all the buttons are but how and when to push them to maximum effect?