Borderline Colour

Revelation 1

It’s 10:40am on a Sunday morning. I’m sitting up in bed typing at speed on a subject I’d have once found unfathomable. (I love that word, I once heard it in a film and loved the way it was mispronounced so much that I simply had to use it as much as possible in the exact same way.)

I’m typing so fast now knowing this little epiphany is one I can learn from. BIG learn! I have to say I’m a little anxious that I may be interrupted and I’ll miss some major point. So much so that I fear forgetting the punchline/moral.

So often as a member of such a busy household I find myself not knowing what to do when there’s nothing to solve or work around. Maybe I’m becoming an expert at working under pressure. Sunday morning is no exception though so I need to rush this though.

I woke not much different to any other day. Today I woke to a cough then another and recognised the link to indigestion through the night.

I slid to the end of the bed slowly so I didn’t disturb my sleeping partner next to me. Like a slug I slumped my way the whole 3 feet to the toilet door, checking on my way I hadn’t disturbed my partner.

I planned to stand up right for a bit, hoping to alleviate my burning throat and the hope of easing my discomfort bu sipping some cold water might also help. Perhaps I could even zed a little longer?

While in the bathroom I heard the duvet being wafted, the bed being made and the curtains being opened. A ritual performed by my mum in my sleepy teenage stage. This signalled my mum’s frustration with my “laziness”.

I felt pressure.

I didn’t want to get out of bed. Not yet. I reluctantly finished in the bathroom so I could hopefully slip back into bed though felt I shouldn’t/couldn’t/wouldn’t.

When I came through from the en suite my partner was out of bed. She said she wanted to get up, that she didn’t like wasting the morning, that sleeping in wasted her day, and struggling to sleep enough had a direct impact on her mental health and how she managed to sleep at a normal time.

Here’s what I heard;

-She couldn’t sleep in (because of me).

- She can’t go to bed early (because of me).

- We stayed up late (because of me.)

- I was unsupportive.

- My partner is feeling ill because of me.

- She’s paying for us to have a good time, being tired.

- I don’t pay because I can sleep in.

- I’m lazy.

- I’m uncaring.

Guilt.

I froze.

And I have frozen so many times.

This time though is going to be different. This time I’m going to learn something. Yessiree !

I froze back then too. I was eleven or 12 years old.

And when that happens it’s like I have no control over me. I go back to that time, to the very moment I statued and I could not move. I was trapped. I had no words. I lost the use of my body and my voice. I was back there in that moment. I was lying on the floor in the front room of my childhood home. I was there with him. And I didn’t want to be. I heard his words again. I closed my eyes tight.

I don’t recall opening my eyes then much. I didn’t want to see. But I remember my racing thoughts inside. How could I get away? The door was right there. “Just go! Leave! Why are you still here?”

Since then I asked myself why I didn’t leave. I know I didn’t want him to touch me. I thought I was scared of not doing as I was told.

Something traumatic happened to me back then and it caused me to freeze so much so that I couldn’t even escape.

When my world is threatened, whether that’s down to perceived or existing intention, I go right back there. To that room. Where I couldn’t move.

But let’s face it. I’m not special. As much as I wanted to be, I’m not. And there are people like me out there, at a different stage of their journey, who may appreciate listening to this. Recognising there’s a way out of our thought patterns. Training, reprogramming if you like. And work, HARD fu***ng work.

But we can break free. That’s the thing. We CAN. I can. I’m new to this, yes. But I CAN.

I cut eye contact and turned over to “sleep” while my partner left the room

Secretly though, I had to have some time to process this and I knew I’d have to do it alone.

Here I recognise just how difficult I can be to live with and appreciate just how patient my partner can be. It can be very frustrating when you open up and you feel unheard because the person you are opening up to is taking things personally as I do.

She is getting frustrated with HER needs and then my reaction to how that impacts ME. Can she ever feel heard by me?

Because now I know. And if you KNOW you do it, if you KNOW that’s how your body CAN react. Then we can know how to help ourselves, our loved ones. JUST by stopping. Just by REALLY listening.

There are two things I can learn here (well so far). Now I’ve realised I can’t really help somebody if I’m not prepared to actively listen.

And. When they tell me their story it’s not because they want me to fix it.

I heard all my partner had to say. I heard her struggles. And because I was so frozen in my s**t I lost out on a lovely lazy Sunday morning in bed.

We wanted to do shooty things with NERF guns and the big kids. Now I have a date with an oversized turd that won’t flush? This calls for the wooden skewer!

Here’s a pretty flower.