She articulates how I sometimes feel. We are so different but we share much. I hold her tight in my mind’s eye and my heart. She is hurting as I sometimes do but she doesn’t have the support and care that I live with daily. And yet we both cannot help but compare. It’s a hurting thing to do and does not help. Give her strength to make something of her life, however small. And give me the grace to do the same.
I thought he knew her, but it seems he doesn’t. Yesterday was the first time he actually had a conversation with her. I thought she had a New Zealand accent but it is in fact South African. And she has a cattery. He didn’t hear that bit. There is much that he misses. What did she say? he asked afterwards. So I filled him in. Neither of us thought that it fitted her, though what someone who runs a cattery looks like, I am not sure. But she is so pretty, he said.
I make resolutions. I have always done so, though as I grow older they are quieter, less ambitious ones. I have what, ten years of vital (ish) working at my practice (and trying to earn what living I can)? I hope for the energy and verve to see this through. And for some success, if only to carry me through into those inward years that lie ahead. But mostly I think I hope for an inner (and thus outer) serenity born of self-acceptance. Oh, how I have battled with that through my life. The curse of never feeling good enough (though what good enough actually looks like I’ve never known). Isn’t it time to let all that go? He thinks I am. He has told me often enough. Do you think I’d be with you if I didn’t? he says time and time again. And I can see it. My being here makes him happy. Isn’t that good enough? I think so, yes.
