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vendredi 9 janvier 2009

Over the top

Maybe I was a little over-dramatic in my last post... I'm not in such a funk today, partly because the tidying up is actually starting to show signs of success, partly because I'm just in a better frame of mind. And D and I have been getting on pretty much fine in the last few days. And the story about him I mentioned the other day happened in 1998 and hasn't been repeated. He's a great father, a kind and considerate man. He's generous and funny. And I'm pretty sure I'm no picnic to live with either.

Moving on, then.

A commenter asked why people (meaning me, I guess) are so willing to put such private information on the net for complete strangers to read... It's a tough question. I spent a long time reading blogs (many, many blogs) before I started writing one. Firstly because I never really thought I'd have that much to say, but mainly because if D found out (or read what I write), I suspect we'd end up having the mother of all rows. You see, D is one of the most profoundly suspicious people I've ever met - he's all about giving out minimal amounts of information, using codes, false names (not for anything serious, just for ordinary stuff like restaurant reservations or what have you)... If he read some of the private, personal stuff I've written on here (about me, a tiny bit about him (though what a story to blast over the web!), a lot about his mother...), even though it's pretty anonymous, he'd have a fit. A real fit. He might never talk to me again.

But it's not some suicidal mission of mine to do this. It's loneliness.

I've lived in France since July 1992. Over the years, I've made friends, lost contact with friends, made new ones. I have some very good friends here. But they're not J and M, my two best friends, both back in England and whom I've known since I was 18 (more than half my life...). I miss them more than anything else about Britain (OK, them and Cadbury's chocolate, particularly Crunchie). I miss the hysterical laughter that bubbles out whenever we talk. I miss our shared youth. I miss our common memories, legends, myths. I miss our shared traumas, dramas and sadness.

We hardly ever see each other, rarely e-mail, almost never phone. But we celebrate each others' birthdays, we celebrate those of our kids. I am the godmother to J's daughter, she is godmother to L, and M is godmother to C. Our lives are linked, we are a group. Friends.

And I have no one like that here. Absolutely no one.

So, I keep a written diary (written by hand, with a pen, like the old-fashioned girl that I am), but I'm always wary of other people reading it. And now I have this blog. It's my outlet, it's where I bare my soul, get what's bothering me off my chest.

And the fact that it's strangers who read what I write (albeit very few strangers - I got three comments to my last post and was elated!) is comforting in its own way. What I have to say is often deeply embarrassing (to me, at least), or the kind of thing liable to make me cry (I cry pathetically easily), and that's not easy to accept when you're face-to-face with someone you know well.

When I write here, you can't see if I'm crying (I'm not tonight, but I was for certain posts), I won't feel embarrassed bumping into you because I almost certainly never WILL bump into you, I'm anonymous, lost in a crowd. It's not for nothing that I'm a city girl (who grew up in all manner of God-forsaken villages and swore she'd get out) - it's in cities that you can be the most anonymous. That said, Montpellier is a small city, so maybe I'm not so anonymous here after all.

I've often flirted with depression. I went through "bad spells" in my younger days, and probably went through another bout after my first daughter died. I may even still be suffering - I don't know, as I never go to the doctor, never really talk about my feelings with anyone (hence D's accusations, I guess). But I'm basically OK. And reasonably content with my life. Not fully, of course - lots of wasted opportunities, lots of poor decision-making, lots of spinelessness - but reasonably.

Forgive me if I let myself go on occasion - sometimes, you guys are all I've got for this kind of thing. I'll try to lighten up from time to time (I can be fun sometimes, too!)...

1 commentaire:

Cha Cha a dit…

No apologies necessary! This is your blog, and you can do with it what you like.

It's funny you talk about this - I've been thinking lately about the weirdness of blogging about my life for complete strangers to read. But the funny thing for me is that I have also slowly but surely let people I know in real life know about my blog, and while I'm a bad liar in person, I'm a horrible liar in writing. I just can't do it. So, blogging has made me more honest and authentic in person.

And, for the record, I read your blog because you are honest and funny and amazing.