Wednesday 9 June 2010

Don't mistake my weakness for kindness

When I was about twelve or thirteen I fell in with a 'bad crowd.'
Not particularly bad in the great scheme of things as you don't get many, honest to goodness, bad crowds in the Home Counties of England. Particularly not amongst young girls of that age. Well, at least not back in the 1990s.

Just the usual stuff, cigarettes, alcohol, older boyfriends (up to the grand old age of all of fifteen) and so on.
No sweat at the time, hair-raising when I think of Jessica in about a decade.
No hanging around in parks into the evening for my daughter.
Definitely no cigarettes.
Or beer.
Or boys.
Not until she is at least thirty five.

Sadly, none of the above will trouble my Georgina.
I never thought I would say this about a child of mine but I only wish she might be smoking a cigarette, or drinking a beer, or going wild about an unsuitable boyfriend, at some point in the future.
But she won't.
Because she's dead.

Anyhow, my parents didn't like my friends. My teachers didn't like my friends. Some of them asked me, straight out, why I was suddenly attached to this group of girls when I obviously didn't fit in with them. Too quiet, too studious for this louder and more bolshy set.

These girls all called me Doogie, after Doogie Howser the boy genius doctor who, according to Mr Wiki P, was the proud possessor of a genius intellect and an eidetic memory. Sadly I don't have either of those things but, in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king as they say.

I remember talking to one of these girls, discussing how on earth we could be friends when we were so dissimilar. She said that we needed one another. She said, "Catherine, you are a weak boffin and me, I'm a hard thicko. THAT, in a nutshell, is why we are friends."

A pattern that continued to pop up in my life over the next decade or so, although once I hit my mid-twenties I moved in the weak boffin crowd pretty much exclusively. It is my natural milieu.

I needed the 'hard thickos' because
(a) they were useful in avoiding getting beaten up at school and, believe me, after you've seen someone getting their front teeth knocked out on a school bench that is quite the priority and
(b) they knew how to have a good time.
So I adopted the weak and weedy role and came along for the ride.
Oh and I never got beaten up. Still have all my own original teeth. Grin.
I have never figured out why the hard thickos would need me but I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Another conversation, with this same girl, more of an argument really, ended in an insult that STILL stings to this very day.
She said that I was like a glass of orange squash that had too much water added to it.
Over-diluted.
Weak. Watery. Tasteless. Passionless.
I can only conclude it must have hurt because it was close to the truth. That is why I can still remember this insult about eighteen years after it was flung.
I am a weak person,  I will go to some lengths to avoid a fight, I overuse the word 'sorry' (I was once challenged to go an hour without apologising and I failed miserably, I think I lasted ten minutes or so), I have a fine line in repressing my anger but will go and sit and pick at things for weeks and years (and indeed decades as I've illustrated here) after they have been said.

I used to think that I was quiet because I was kind.
That I didn't speak out because I was thoughtful.
That I apologised because I was wary of hurting other people's feelings.

Since Georgina died, I have had a few unpleasant moments of self revelation.
Confirmations and negations of things I thought about myself.

I cannot be relied upon in a crisis. I am weak.
If you are looking for a tower of strength I suggest you move right on up the line.
Sorry, you said you wanted rubble of weakness? Well step right up, we have the best rubble in town. That is our speciality.
Here you go, have some of this brick dust that used to be Catherine W. Her daughter died and she crumbled.

I'm not as kind as I hoped I was. Not as gentle as I thought.
My weakness, or wussiness, or spinelessness was not kindness.
How I ever got those qualities all muddled up is beyond me.
What I thought was kindness was, actually, pretty tepid stuff. I'm sure you've all been on the receiving end of what I used to term 'kind.' The person that writes a card but never calls. The friends that disappear after a couple of months. Kinda there for you, almost, and then . . . . kinda not.
Even more annoying, I was pretty self congratulatory about my supposed kindly nature.
Look, I even bought sympathy cards. How very sensitive of me. Sigh.

I think I have become colder since Georgina died. And I thought it would make me more caring somehow. I wanted something good to come out of this messy situation of life, and death, and birth, and falling to bits, and my marriage disintegrating, and rebuilding. I'm not sure it did.
A little beady eyed bean counter has taken up residence in my soul and assesses those around me to see whether they are deserving of my sympathy. When his calculations are finished he often throws his hands up in despair and shrieks 'But your children didn't die. Nobody is dead. Leave me alone, take your stupid so-called problem somewhere else.'

Any kindness I have left in me is for Georgina's memory and for looking after her sister.
There isn't even much left over for my husband. Certainly not much for friends.
Because I somehow feel that I am entitled to all the pity and all the compassion.
Because I feel so sorry for myself that I don't have anything left to give out, other than to emit a sort of continuous whine about how sad I am.
For myself. For my daughters. A big greedy pity monster who wants to gobble it all up herself.

The world is infinitely harsher than I ever realised.
When I look around me, I am surprised that there aren't hundreds upon hundreds of us, fallen to our knees in the streets, flailing at the pavements with our hands, wailing. 
Because if it doesn't hit you with a dead baby, it will probably cut you down with something else.
It's in the post folks. It's lurking out there.
And that thought doesn't make me want to go and wrap my arms around the masses.
It makes me want to run away screaming.

I don't know which is worse to be frank.
The watery, annoying person I was before.
Or the cold, cranky one I seem to have become.
But
I hope I know a little bit more about being kind now.
I hope I know what I'm talking about even if I can't summon it up for every occasion that might deserve some.
Tights laddered, missed the bus, parking ticket, broke a nail.
I hope that if I attempt to offer kindness to someone it will have a bit more meat to it, be of a more substantial variety, than that old, over diluted squash version.

As the man says, 'It's so easy to laugh. It's so easy to hate. It takes guts to be gentle and kind.'

Maybe, just maybe, I'm slightly more gutsy than I was before?

And you? Kinder or colder? Neither?



'I know it's over, still I cling. I don't know where else I can go.'

26 comments:

  1. Oh gosh my dear, you are so so hard on yourself. I'm not sure how I came across your blog, but I can tell you this. You are not cold or hard. This is just your time to "take" and that is okay. We all come to that place at some point in our lives. There will be some other time somewhere in the future when it is your time to "give" again.

    It sure sounds like you are learning so much about yourself, life and everything from your experiences. As horrible as things are right now, there are "gifts" for you as well. Somewhere in the future you will come to understand what these gifts are.

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  2. I dont know... I'm more judgmental, I think. I look at people and think, how can you complain? Did your baby die? No? Then shut up! I know, it's horrible to admit, but my patience with people's issues is so low. I try to fake it til I make it, as they say, but sometimes I fall short...

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  3. I don't know. I'll come back to that one.

    On the other hand, i'm coming round to yours in about 5 minutes to give you a great big hug. I cannot tell you how much the visits you've made to my blog have helped me.

    Wasn't bloody weak to come and putting some stuffing in my pillow case. It was kind, the very nicest, rightest kind of kind :)

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  4. i am cold and i am bitter. i am harsher than i was. my tears are for me and my babies. i have lost all of my innocence and most of my hope. im not sweeter, not kinder.

    this is a beautiful and heartfelt post. i couldn't have said most of it better myself. thank you for sharing.

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  5. I always hope that losing and loving my baby will make my heart softer in the long run. I don't know what it has done to it right now. Sometimes I have less reserves of caring for others' sad situations because my feelings are so much in the forefront.

    I like to think that, now, you could both knock someone's front teeth out in a gutsy move (hypothetically speaking!) and care and love with increased depth because of what you have experienced - love, loss, injustice. Maybe being a reliable tower of strength comes best in the form of experiencing your feelings in a human not robot way. I'd rather be rubble that is real than whatever picture of strength and 'coping' that I would every try to emulate. What you write in your posts is very real and I appreciate it. The rubble speaks volumes!

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  6. Catherine, your perception of yourself is so different to how I see you. I know I've said it before, but I think it bears repeating.

    I am both kinder AND colder now. I hope that the people I encounter get the reaction they deserve, but I'm not sure that's always the case.

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  7. I've sort of stumbled onto your blog in my wanderings through other babyloss blogs. I just wanted to say that you are a gifted writer and, while I agree with a previous poster who said that you are too hard on yourself, I appreciate your posting. I'm sorry for what you've been through and what you are going through. I lost my son at 23 weeks when I went into pre-term labor in April 2010. Yeah, it was recent and it's still pretty raw. I doubt I will ever create my own blog about my journey through grief and hopefully a brighter future but, like I said, I appreciate those of you who are courageous enough to tell your story. Finally, good use of vocab words! Snobbishly I can't stand "text" speak or constant misspelling...maybe that's why I'm so fearful to ever have my own blog. Anyway, best of luck to you.

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  8. Every time I read here, I am struck by how similar our teen years must have been. Not to mention we are the same age.
    Oh how I'd like to meet you some day.
    For what it's worth, I think you are kind beyond measure.
    xo

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  9. I think it's made me more aware of other people's sorrows, though I'm not sure I'm always better at how I treat them.

    And as for people in my life, I have been slowly starting to try to find out what is going on with them. There is a two to three year gap of not knowing what is happening with most of my friends. I've needed this time to be about me. I guess I'm trying to reconnect with people and slowly even up the balance a little.

    Be kind to yourself. You deserve kindness as much as anybody.

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  10. You are not cold or hard. You have done what you have had to, to survive a loss that we should never have to suffer.

    I do notice that I have become much more angry that I used to be. I used to always be happy and cheerful, no I'm more likely to yell and be pissed off at you for no reason. And I am also much less tolerant of others petty problems because really if you haven't lost a child complaining about your hair or your boyfriend being mean really doesnt matter even a little bit to me. So get over it.

    ~hugs~

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  11. O man, I can so relate to this post. The world is indeed harsh and it changes us.

    Thanks for sharing- I will hang on to the quote:
    It's so easy to laugh. It's so easy to hate. It takes guts to be gentle and kind.

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  12. I think I started out kinder and then got colder. Now I think I'm back to my normal self. I've been waiting for some sort of massive personality change but it doesn't seem to be coming.

    With that said, my internal bean counter raises a glass to yours. It's a terrible habit, especially for someone who appears to have nothing to complain about, but I can't seem to stop myself meting out judgements. (Perhaps you've fallen in with another bad crowd).

    Just for the record, you seem plenty gutsy and not at all watered down. Even here among the life-as-open-book blogging set you come across as refreshingly honest about the ups and downs of this journey. And I thank you for it.

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  13. it changes for me by the day/week/month.

    right now i am, and have been for a while, in that place where you realize everyone is fighting some secret battle and deserves at least the benefit of the doubt.

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  14. "Her daughter died and she crumbled." because she was strong enough to love her tiny daughter with all of her heart and she was brave enough to confront grief head on.

    I am/was one of those diluted people but you know what, I think people who are loud and thoughtlessly chatter on about stupid shit are really annoying.

    I am colder now, but also more outspoken and friendlier (that could be due to the antidepressants though).

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  15. Misti Ko - Thank you for your kind comment. I hope there will be a point in the future where I have something to give. Just at the moment I feel a bit 'withered', with nothing good left.

    Merry - I'm glad that I said something that helped. Sometimes I feel like I turn up at these blogs, jam my foot in my mouth and then slowly hop away.

    lis, I just want to give you a hug. I'm certainly not sweeter either.

    Ruth, thank you for your comment but I was kind of surprised to see you here! I was thinking of you this morning and wondering if your little one had decided to put in an appearance.

    afteriris, ha ha! Yes I have also somehow simultaneously become kinder and colder. That was what I was groping towards, how come you can say in one sentence what takes me about a hundred!

    T - I am so very sorry for the loss of your son. Thank you for your kind words about my writing. After I lost the girls, I started trawling the internet for something that made sense to me. I don't know if you have already found it but, if not, I cannot recommend a website called Glow in the Woods highly enough.
    Thinking of you and your little boy, especially during these first painful months.

    Hope's Mama - a weak boffin too? Surely not! We'd have been unstoppable if only we'd lived on the same continent.

    TracyOC - I'll join your bad crowd any day. Bean counters and all. Perhaps I will revert to my normal self eventually too.

    Reba - I think I'm halfway to where you are. Recognition of all those other secret battles but not quite yet able to muster enough to offer any support. Sigh.

    AnnaMarie - Thank you. I wonder the same thing about the antidepressants, they seemed to have caused some subtle changes in my personality.

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  16. I feel I'm a different person now. Not sure what I am yet. Colder. Weaker. More selfish.
    I think we're hard on ourselves though. Sending you some love my dear.

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  17. Colder. Bitter. Judgmental. Angry. Sadder. But not kinder. Not more patient. Not gentler. No.

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  18. Thank you Rachel.

    Mirne, in all honesty, I think that you are one of the very kindest souls I know. x

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  19. "Sometimes I feel like I turn up at these blogs, jam my foot in my mouth and then slowly hop away. "

    ROFL - you so don't!!!!!!

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  20. Angrier, less sympathetic, definitely. But I've realized it's because I was always a doormat. I gave and gave and gave, never expecting anything back. Although that is not really true. I thought being a "good" person would mean good things would come my way.

    Recently, I had a revelation much like you. I was not kind, I was weak. But I think you are not being fair to yourself. You were weak, now you are stronger. That coldness is not a negative thing. You are thinking of yourself for the first time. It feels selfish. It feels underserved. But we didn't deserve the deaths of our babies. Every time we gave in to what someone else wanted never earned us a single brownie point. Now we know that and know that it is important to take care of ourselves. It is an adjustment, though. To think of yourself first, to be selfish. I think it is a good thing.

    Your writing is so beautiful, and you are so good at offering comfort. That makes you very kind, in my book.

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  21. Really interesting to read your self-reflection and complete honesty. I think you're lovely and kind. It's hard to think back to high school and all that drama - how massively awful and important some things were - now that we can judge them against our losses as mothers. Wish you had both your girls to worry and watch over. xo

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  22. i feel harder too. i hope i can turn that hardness into strength.

    i can relate to a lot of this post, catherine. i too have confused "conflict avoidance" with "kindness." i thought i was good. actually i was just lost and unable to work or fight for anything that was important to me.

    but let me say - please go gently with yourself. i really believe that kindness and energy for others will return to you in time. lots of time. right now if you have kindness for your girls and some kindness for yourself, that is plenty. xo

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  23. Hey there.....I hear you. Why is it so easy to see our own uglies so boldly without seeing our beauty in it's true form. For truly while your critiques of yourself may have validity from where you are standing, it is your ability to SEE them that endears you to me. Some people walk around doing all the things you mention, and they have no idea that those things might not be very nice things. They have no insight. Thank you for having insight....it will be what turns you into the person you long to be in the end.

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  24. you mother your living child and you honour georgina's memory.

    you didn't crumble. you wouldn't be able to do either of those things if you did.

    the woman who writes here and who comments on my blog posts and those of others isn't cold. she understands, and she wouldn't if she was cold and hard.

    thank you for being you.

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  25. I keep wishing I would be softer, kinder, gentler, more patient... but it does not seem to be happening.
    Beautiful post, Catherine, as always. xo

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  26. Thanks for sharing this post. Ive recently been described as cold. A cold fish, actually. I have no patience for my friends, or family, for that matter. I feel weak, and probably am.
    Too bad us weak, cold, pity-worthy gals can't all hang out together since we seem to be the only ones who understand each other.
    (())
    PS whats a boffin??

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