You can be at home anywhere

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive at where we started
And know the place for the first time.’
–   T. S. Eliot,  Little Gidding  

On July 15th 2009 I took a plane to Barcelona and, without intending to, I left home.

Within two weeks I met someone special while dancing in the Pyranees and the next year I moved into his home in Granollers, a town 30km from Barcelona.

From then on I bounced back and forth between Catalunya and Cornwall, trying to manage two homes while not feeling really grounded in either one.

I sent over furniture, books, favourite pictures and familiar crockery.  I thought that familiar things would make me feel at home.

I travelled south with my two dogs Bonnie and Blue.  Home had to be where my dogs were. But one after another they died and for the last year there has been an empty space where dogs should be.

I rented out my Cornish cottage,  and other people took care of the land. I didn’t let it go, but lent it to others in my absence.

We tried to create a family home in Granollers where we lived with my partner’s adolescent son. The quirky old family house carried a lot of history. We painted and decorated, took holidays, ate meals, had visitors, worked side by side on various projects.  I knew it wasn’t home but I didn’t know why.

I wrote The Catalan Way and tried to make sense of all the changes in my life. I was no longer working in my profession as an acupuncturist, I was learning both Catalan and Spanish, I stopped dancing tango, I was struggling on a daily basis to create a positive relationship with my step-son.

‘The impulse for much writing is homesickness.  You are trying to get back home, and in your writing you are invoking that home, so you are assuaging the homesickness.’
–   Joan Didion   

There have been so many beautiful days

Hundreds of wonderful new experiences such as camping on the Delta d’Ebre, swimming in hot mineral waters, walking the ancient tracks and lanes of Minorca. I loved learning about a new culture and met many warm and kind people who opened their hearts to me.  I was lucky to meet a kindred spirit who became my friend. Her new baby also provided me with a sense of family and someone small to care for. Last year as I walked through the streets holding her sleeping in my arms, I realised that I had never before been left to care for a young baby. My heart was singing.

But difficult times too

I felt ungrounded, awkward with people who didn’t understand my faltering Catalan, tired of always being the strange one,  guilty for taking my beloved dogs into a home with no garden with a resident spaniel who began to savagely attack Bonnie.  I had to learn about step-families and gradually realised that the tension and arguments that arose were totally normal and nothing to do with my own personal failure.

People expect women to magically give mothering to those who don’t want it.  I have always longed for a child but daily rejection when you have no happy baby memories to call on is a bitter experience.

What makes a house into a home?

‘If the day ever comes when they know who
They are, they may know better where they are.’
–   Robert Frost,  A Cabin in the Clearing   

Home can be anywhere but we need several things if we want to truly feel at home.

1. Safety – home is a retreat from the outside world and we need to feel safe

2. Friendship – whether we live alone or with other people, we cannot feel at home if there is too much tension or emotional distance. Be your own friend and live with friendly people.

3. Creativity – home is a place where we can be creative and try out new things. If there is restriction on our creativity, a house won’t feel like home

4. Solitude – it is so peaceful to be alone at home, knowing you won’t be disturbed, that you can relax completely into being who you are

5. Peace – life is noisy and often disturbing. Living with other people may make home less peaceful than you want but there must be a balance. If your house is regularly disrupted by unwanted noise and chaos then it is hard to feel truly at home.

On the Camino I felt at home on the road, and at home in myself.  All five of the above requirements were met. In Granollers too often none of them were and so for me I couldn’t settle there.

Now back in Lamorna

After seven years in Catalunya we decided to move to Cornwall and set up home in  my house. For me this was a return journey but for my partner it was a new adventure.

I now have all five needs met and with my new understanding what is necessary, I hope that I can help him feel at home here in the UK.

It will be interesting to see how it is, living our lives in my country rather than his.  In my house rather than his. In my culture, my language. I hope that by remembering the list of five needs we can make this house into our home.

(In case you are wondering, my stepson is going to live with his mother, also going home in another way)

Does Writing about it make it worse or better?

June 30^th 2020.

Woke up feeling I am very fragile mentally.

I’m still at Janets.

Images flashing by. And always the pain in my gut, it’s like a reminder that all is not well.

For so many years I have had the outer semblance of strength and coping. Perhaps people even think I am confident, or self sufficient. ButI have the feeling of something that could burst open, could rip apart at any moment.

Something that might just give. Too much pressure both lately and always.

Caged monkey who lives alone

The isolation, the not being touched, the aloneness for too many hours like a caged monkey who has no company and who sits picking at herself until one day she just gives up. It is not possible to survive like this.

Pressures of Tiffany cutting off, of trying to keep things going with Lydia but it’s hard when she is rude or uncaring and I know she’s a little girl and I must be stronger than that but I don’t know what she feels really. I keep going but am sensitive to every nuance. She doesn’t like my hair, she makes her doll say horrible things to me, she doesn’t listen, tells me what to do, says that this is the last time we will meet, tells me I look weird.

It is hard being with her but I keep on doing it as I don’t want to hurt her. But I am hurt.

Wobbly Ground

Pressures of Pep not being in touch, then being loving, then not. His suggestion that we marry then saying things change, then saying that was a joke and I am confused and don’t know what is going on. I feel he is perhaps starting something new with the friend from Navata. But am I being paranoid, I need to keep it to myself, but I also need to be honest, but I also need to be cool, but also warm. I have no idea what will happen next. I am on very wobbly ground. But it is my ground – maybe he is normal and I am not. I feel he is lying and hiding, but is this just me?

House Guest Worries

Pressure of coming to stay with Janet and Bev. It brings up all my fears of being unwelcome. I am in a constant state of alert. I can’t relax except when we are in the car, gently rocking through the countryside. Then I start to sleep. Then I feel my body at last begin to let go. But here in the house, I both want to stay and long to flee. I have to be aware of Zero that he isn’t being dirty or dropping hair on the carpet or scratching or sleeping in the wrong place. But at the same time I have to not be worrying openly – they don’t want me to worry or to stress about it because that makes them feel they are not being good hosts. So I must be alert and also appear to be relaxed.

I want to go now – it’s over a week. We’ve all done very well really but I am also not ready. I dread the isolation of Dolphin Cottage. I have nowhere else to go. I want to be somewhere safe. I want someone to put their arms around me and help me through. I am terrified of staying here and of going and of the journey. But most of all I am terrified of what is happening in my mind – stretched to breaking point. I see a thin piece of fabric, already mended with fraying thread but now pulling apart with the gaps clearly visible.

I have the feeling of being very close to an extremely dangerous piece of ground – at the moment I am still standing and moving about normally but in an instant the earth could give way and I’d be slipping down into some abyss of rolling stones and rushing air.

The thin frayed fabric that holds me together

I am aware of the past and how it is still affecting me. I was forming important key parts of my personality when I was 13, 14 and I did my best in bad circumstances.

In the years since, it has somehow held together. Kind of. Sometimes barely. Often quite well. But it is a huge and important part of me and it was created with materials that are not strong enough to last a whole life. After so much time they have become frayed and, one by one the threads are breaking and the fabric may rip open. Should it not be stronger? Should it not be made of something much much stronger? What does that matter? It isn’t and I did my best to create something that would last but I was too young. I shouldn’t have been left alone to try and make it strong all by myself. Over the years I’ve tried to mend it when it tore but patching up something that is basically weak with the wrong materials isn’t good enough. Now it is breaking again. It scares me.

My heart is pounding when I wake up. Sometimes I am sweating. There is a block of pain in my stomach that aches and burns. I felt that in Dolphin Cottage and I still feel it here.

Those are the strong images. The thin fabric, the fraying threads, the ground that is still holding but that forms only a shallow layer over a deep hole.  The lonely monkey going crazy.

The pressures that are peculiar to my history – being alone, no-one touching me, people close but oblivious to my need for help, my own pride and fear of being too vulnerable, having to take refuge in a home where I am a guest are reflected in current circumstances. Pep playing with my feelings, his inability to be as loving as I need and especially at a distance he can’t support me. Tiffany rejecting me and turning cold seemingly out of the blue.  Lydia being unkind, others passing by with kindness but lack of warmth or welcome, being in someone else’s home where I can’t fully relax because just the fact of being here with my dog is always going to cause stress. And I mustn’t notice that this is happening. There are atmospheres. I have to be alert and try to anticipate problems – but not show it.

Did I mention that last night suddenly Janet said how good it would be to have Susan there – because Susan would dance and be funny? I was happy before that happened but suddenly realised I still wasn’t getting it right – I should have got up and danced. I didn’t know that was wanted until I found out I had failed to do it. Then I felt the downward slide – and that too is not good. Perhaps I spoiled the evening because I was hurt and instead of laughing and getting up to join in and dance, I tightened and withdrew. I tried to pretend it was ok but I can’t help that it wasn’t. Because those are my feelings and even I can’t hide them all the time. Of course I am not relaxed – I am always aware of how others feel. They might not like me being able to know it, and they definitely prefer that I don’t speak about it, but I can’t help that I know. Because we all like to pretend. Bev knows that she finds it hard having me here and also Zero. My presence means that Janet isn’t giving her 100% attention and Zero here means loose hair and dirt. But she wants to enjoy our company too so it is better if I don’t tune in to her anxiety and irritation.

“Please don’t notice that I find this hard. Because if you notice then I will feel guilty.”

These are normal things that happen when you visit someone else’s home. I know this. No-one is wrong and everyone is doing their best. But my truth is that I feel very scared of being alone at the moment because of my mental state however, the only place that I can be truly at home – is the place where I am totally alone.

Anyway, the cause of this is not about now.

It’s me. And how my personality has been moulded by what happened when I was young. If they had known how much it would damage me, would they have left me?  I’m a bit scared to answer that.

I see that my relationship with Pep is not holding strong. We may be pretending that we can stay together, that I will move over there and live as a couple. We fantasise that we will marry. But the reality is that he doesn’t message me every day and this hurts me. He says he is hurrying to get back to Cornwall but months have gone by and he doesn’t want to come. He wants to want to come. He wants me to think he wants to come. But the truth is he doesn’t want to come and is putting it off.

If I break down and it all falls apart what will happen?

I will soon be back home and it will still be a sort of lockdown. I can see friends and go out and meet people but it won’t be normal and still I will be alone in the house.

I need to be home now- to be able to stay in bed and stare at the ceiling. To shiver and shake without having to pretend I am OK.

What would the monkey do? How do you give up? Do you stop eating? Do you stop feeling? Do you stop responding to others?

I’ve always been too sensitive. I can often tell when others are feeling things that they don’t want to express. They don’t want me to notice or mention it. That annoys them. I am often feeling hurt and sad because others are not as caring as I want, or as enthusiastic. Or warm. Every day I am walking though a minefield.

It takes a lot of energy. Being careful and pretending to be ok.

Nature soothes me.

It may be impossible for me to find someone to love me. That may just be impossible. I may always be alone. I am not sure if I am strong enough to live with that loneliness. I don’t know how to become the sort of human who can live like that and be happy. Don’t you have to be very strong in your core? Someone like me with a fragile threadbare piece of old material in my centre is not someone who can survive well alone. I am just able to cover up the weak area and hope that not too much stress will be put on it. Because I know it can tear so easily. Cover it up with layers on top…. But now that I am down to that one piece of ragged fabric……what to do?

I tried writing to Tiffany last night. It turned into a long message. Too long. I don’t know what to say and what to not say. I have so little confidence in myself and she has too much. That is not a good combination. Not good for me anyway.

How do you write to someone who doesn’t care about you?

It’s like forcing a baby bird with no feathers to ask a strong adult bird of prey to be kind and not eat it.

I too thought I was stronger than this. I hadn’t realised how weak and vulnerable I am. I was taken in by the outer mask of certainty.

Now I am the tiny bird with thin skin, no feathers, unable to fly or even reach out my beak to tweet for food. You don’t survive like that – the strong ones will be fed, the weak ones will die.

How to be comfortable as an outsider in a group

January 21^st 2018.

 

I want to write about my experience in an online group

 

Basically it is a group of 75 people who post one photo a day, online, on a Facebook page. We get likes and comments – or not.

 

I met many of the people at a party when I first returned to Cornwall and was surprised to find that although I felt relaxed and comfortable with them online, I actually felt awkward and ill at ease in person.

 

There are quite a few extroverts in the group and I quickly felt left out and shy. I also found some people far too noisy and attention seeking and I couldn’t seem to find a niche for me.

 

I attended several other meetings – all smaller – and was upset to discover that I still felt bad. The experiences were horrible. I became over-vigilant and over-sensitive and this of course spread into my on-line experience.

 

Then the worst thing happened. At a dinner party I felt side-lined and ignored and also patronised by the leader of the group. Something pinged inside me and I blurted out that I found her scary and not as nice as her husband who I know because he is my insurance broker. Shocked silence, horrified defenses of the leader, followed up by my exclusion from those people’s warmth. Of course being middle class, educated ‘nice people, they continued to speak to me and sometimes to even like my photos but I knew that I was now an outsider and not someone they ‘liked’.

 

This experience of being excluded and shut out and ignored and treated with coldness now dominated my experience of the online group. I began to crave acceptance and approval. My daily photos were chosen so that they would be ‘liked. I tried different tactics. I used my dog Zero mercilessly in order to buy popularity. He is very loved within the group and I could guarantee a few comments if he appeared. I shared when I was ill – always a good way to get sympathy and it worked within the wider group but in my head most of the members, especially those who had met me face to face, were feeling cynical about my posts and sneering in the background that I was playing for attention. I imagined they thought me dishonest, manipulative and desperate. Which in many ways was true!

 

I tried harder

I posted interesting photos, food posts, personal posts, funny posts. But I knew that I was getting fewer comments than other members because the main players –the leader and her friends – were shunning me.

 

I began to try commenting and liking the posts of others – not from genuine interest but as a way of making links in the group. But I felt more and more alone.

 

The shame!

How do you say that all this is going on in your head? How shameful. How pathetic. How humiliating for a 60 year old to be so bothered.And if I was so uncomfortable then why didn’t I just leave?

 

I decided that I needed a friend in the group so I invited a friend to join. She knew that I was struggling and I felt hopeful. Of course this didn’t work at all as she quickly became involved in the group, went to meetings and was comfortable and welcomed, and just as I was going down I felt her star rising. In the end rather than gaining a support in the group I felt I lost a part of our friendship as she stopped asking me how I was coping with it and just got on with joining in.

 

I tried even harder

I then changed tactics. Tried posting photos with no words so that I felt less personally involved. Decided to stop posting photos of Zero the collie as I felt I was prostituting him for my own ends. I concentrated on photos of birds and flowers for a while – nothing that could cause offence. I rarely looked at anyone elses posts because it was too painful to see how connected and supported they were. I stopped talking with my friend about it. Withdrew as much as possible without actually leaving thegroup.

 

Now for the question. Why didn’t you just leave the group as it was causing you so much grief?

 

My reasons are complex

I’m not a masochist even though it seems so. I am interested in learning more about myself and I know that groups can be difficult for me. Here was a chance to learn more and hopefully resolve some of my issues. I don’t know when it is my fault and I am being over sensitive and when it is the fault of the other who is being cruel or rude. I knew I was imagining that the whole group didn’t like me when it was not rational. I didn’t really believe that someone had sent out a secret directive ‘ignore Kate when possible and hopefully she will leave soon’ but a part of me acted as though this was exactly what I did believe.

 

An outsider

I come from a family of five siblings and I am the youngest. I have always felt an outsider in a family of outsiders. None of us are exactly extroverts and we all can be over sensitive about being slighted. We all can feel we are left out but I especially react to this by withdrawing. I tend to get away from groups that cause me pain and in this case I didn’t want to take my normal path.

 

As the youngest in my family I felt that there wasn’t enough attention for me from my parents. My father was distant anyway, mainly active when he was annoyed or being critical. My mother had her favourite, my brother, and after that she was trying to share out attention to four sisters. I was perhaps a difficult child to have in your mid 40’s. I asked questions about everything. I had strong opinions and felt things very deeply. I was quick and active and intelligent just when my mother was probably at her most exhausted. Imagine having a strong-minded 14 year old when you are 60!

 

She dealt with this by leaving. She and my father went to live in London and I was left – ‘for the good of my education’ – in the care of my brother and his wife. They were in their early 20’s! Newly parents themselves they were in no mood to look after an adolescent unless she was willing to fit in with their lives. There was conflict and I often found myself alone in the house when they retreated to their bedroom and their own TV.

 

So, I don’t have the strongest sense of myself as a lovable person. I have felt abandonned and unwanted and in spite of years of therapy and self awareness work I am still prone to feeling guilty and bad and unacceptable and wrong. The photo group was an ideal environment to restimulate a lot of painful and shameful feelings.

 

What other 60 year old would sit for hours combing the photographic records of the group to compare how many comments the other members received?

 

I know myself well enough to laugh at my behaviour but I got obsessed and I discovered that my instincts were correct. I am one of the members who receive the lowest number of comments on my photos. People just aren’t that interested in me. I imagine there are some members who really don’t much like me after the dinner party incident and the others perhaps have become infected by a general attitude towards me. On top of which, for a few months I have been withdrawn and disconnected. Was I hoping that someone would notice and come to see what was the matter?

 

My status is low. The problem is that I really care about this. It hurts me deeply even when I know it is ridiculous. I know that Facebook has this affect on yourg girls – there have been studiees. But here am I, a post menopausal woman, counting her Likes and somehow deciding that they have the power to define if she is a worthwhile person or not.

 

What to do?

1. Leave group.   Definitely a possible solution but I might recreate it elsewhere
2. Stay and get more involved. Probably I have been hiding in a corner and thinking so much about myself that I haven’t connected enough with others.
3. Stay and suffer a while longer. Ha ha – not an option. I’ve had enough of it already. While I am learning a lot I also know that I can resolve this much quicker and that some of the last year has been wasted in perhaps feeling sorry for myself rather than taking action. I am not against feeling sorry for yourself but I think it can be done as well in a day as a year. It is a very sad thing that my family weren’t able to give me what I needed as a child. I wish I had been more spoiled as youngest children are supposed to be. I wish someone had understood me better rather than just laughing at my ways. And when I was 14 I wish my mother and father had not decided that I would be better off living with my brother. I wish they had automatically taken me down to London with them to live a more normal life.   But….what I learnt from that time has proved invaluable in my healing work and in my life. I know many people whose lives were disrupted by death or abandonment in their early teenage years and this is a bond that has brought me many wonderful friends. If I can accept and give thanks for the pain I went through – knowing that IT IS OVER NOW – then I hope I can be in this group and many others without having to betray myself in the process.

Perhaps this group is not really my tribe

Perhaps I am from a different tribe who I will find when the time is right.

There will always be people who don’t understand me but this doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with me.

There will always be people who don’t feel comfortable with my ways – with healing, or psychic work, or prayer, or alternative medicine, or therapy, or intensity, or a sharp tongue, or my puppy dog need for approval, or using illness to get sympathy, or even being too bothered about Facebook Likes.

So I am staying on for a while. I know I am in the lowest quadrant of popularity in this group but I am not alone there. There are others and I can reach out to them and let the In Crowd be happy with itself. I can accept that I am not perfect but am flawed and insecure and sometimes annoying.

I am also generous and kind and loyal and funny. I am OK.