This won’t be much of a post, I suspect, because the last few days have had a good go at taking me apart. Solicitors, epic and terrifying bills, people with far too much power over my life. But today I talked to someone official who sounded like a human being, which is unusual in the system, and who maybe actually listened and heard.
Oddly enough, that kind of thing makes me cry. But the grief came this morning, before the stress. Grief, bubbling up from who knows where? From my history, from some unbled psychic pustule…. As I’ve commented before, the sheer physicality of the process is strange. Emotion moves through my body in the most direct, shattering ways, and leaves me exhausted. I can afford to be exhausted today, the second draft of the novel I’m working on is typed, this week’s edits are done, publishers have been talked to, research undertaken, collaborators emailed. I have periods of intense thinking and activity, and periods of having to stop, and this is moving towards stop. So if I don’t get a blog up on Saturday, it will be because I’ve opted to take some time off.
Oddly, as I write this, I find myself thinking of Jayne. Those of you who have been reading for a while may remember her frequent and highly negative comments on my posts. I had a fair idea for some time as to who she really was and when I intimated that I could out her, she went quiet. I don’t know if she still comes by to read – she might, because there are some very odd links binding my life to hers, whether I like it or not. What I do has the power to impact on her dramatically. But then, that’s true of so many of our relationships and we seldom know how such things will fall out.
Jayne captured the voice of my fears, and expressed well all the kinds of things I tend to beat myself up with, all the flaws and failings, all the shortcomings, all the ways in which I could be wrong. I hear that voice in my head even when there’s no one saying it to me in person. I’ve come to appreciate how much I enjoy not hearing it though. I suppose many of us have those little voices, feeding our insecurities, reminding us of our mistakes. On the whole they belong on the inside of the head. They may help to keep us honest. It’s better not to be hearing them from the outside, in terms of what that’s like to live with. I wonder what life would be like without them.
Sometimes I still wonder what Jayne would say, and what she thinks. Usually when I’m writing my bog posts. My troubled shadow, unable to admit who she really is, or where she fits in the story. I ended up writing a lot of blogs for her, trying to explain ideas that she couldn’t grasp and perspectives she couldn’t handle, before I worked out who she was. I rather hope she’s moved on, able to get on with her life and to find some direction and meaning that doesn’t refer to me. But it’s funny, sometimes the people who hurt us and try to bully us only manage to provoke us into doing better. But then, she would probably say that I was the bully, and she the one provoked into growing. It is always odd, facing a dark reflection of yourself in this way. Who am I, between these perceptions? I know more than I used to. That may be partly why Jayne went away. The hungry ghosts depend on us believing in them.
I may manage to write something more coherent tomorrow. In the meantime, I wish you all well with whatever life throws, peace at your hearth, peace in your hearts, the insight to help you find ways through your day, the inspiration to make better, the open heart that knows how to feel joy. There are too many hungry ghosts in the world already.