5 January. I am grateful for a shared smile, a naughty twinkle, late night eyes and a forever love.
I am grateful and so very very blessed to have a life partner like B. I am sad that we aren’t together today to celebrate his birthday but am still so very grateful that I have him, no matter where he is. I am grateful to be loved by and to love my best friend, my conscience, my lover, my hero, my truth. We are not perfect, but imperfect is perfect, because it is what it is. It is what we are. We are mad, we are volatile, we are harsh, we are impossible. But we are never indifferent. My wish for us, and for you, my angel, this year is peace. (It really is, but I also just wanted to share the pic Jem took of her peace word on her window. How cool is that.) I love you Bryan with all my heart, today and forever. And today and forever, I am so very grateful for you. (Oh and by the way, this is your birthday card.).
I’ve been accused of not focusing on the big picture. A few times now. And that’s the point actually. Of my musings. Of my grateful posts. That often because we are so concerned about the big picture we don’t see what’s right in front of us. The little picture. Right now. The beauty. And the reality. Yes, in the galah, in the trees, in my kids doing their homework, in me laughing at myself over my reaction to Ikg, in my relationship with B. It is all about the little picture. The big picture is made up of little things. Little picture things that we can deal with. In that way we cope with the big picture. Because often the big picture is just too much to deal with. I felt a little affronted at being judged in that way. Just for a moment. And that’s okay, because then I let it go. Because I know the issue was not mine. And I do feel empathy. And I know this is my story, my musings, my experience. When I was faced with the reality of my own mortality, I realise I did start to focus on the little picture. Equally when I knew we had to come to Australia. Because the big picture was just too confronting. It’s the little things that helped me cope. The little things that really mattered. The stroke of my bald head. Doing homework with my girls. The reassuring smile of a stranger. My doctor’s voice. My children’s smiles. A song. A walk in the park. A cup of coffee with B and yes the 1kg that I could do something about. So, I will continue every single day to find the little picture things that I am so grateful for. I will continue to look at and share the little picture, because I believe, little picture by little picture, that is the big picture.
This again. I had a chat this weekend about the one thing that keeps coming up since I started sharing some stuff. The notion of honesty. Well more of being honest. Of sharing truth, that isn’t always flattering. And how taken aback some people are by it. I think my thin blog made some people uncomfortable, cos it’s just not cool to admit to being that self absorbed when the issues the world face are so vast. I agree. But we are and we do. If only we had the courage to say so. It would make it so much easier to be ourselves, to be kind to ourselves, if we didn’t have to keep up with the often dishonest realities of our perfect friends. Those who seem to have the perfect lives, with the perfect relationships and the perfect attitudes to weight, religion, work, education, their children, discipline etc etc. According to what they share they never put a foot wrong. Bullshit. It would be so much kinder if we all shared, not only how we wished we were, but how we really are too. I really do love B and who we are and I wish we were always kind to each other but sometimes we just suck at this relationship stuff. We didn’t talk nicely to each other this whole weekend. I can’t really remember why, something about him not going to Dan Murphy’s when I wanted him too and me not taking my tablets for three days. And that was before he told me he was off to Adelaide for the week. I didn’t need to share that with you, and probably some of you wonder why I did. I’m not sure. Just because its the truth, and maybe someone will feel better about being a little off centre too. That’s just life. Let’s be kinder to each other by dropping the pretence. It’s such a waste of time.
B came home at 4.30am last night. I am grateful that he and I met in advertising so our lives together are punctuated by both of us keeping ridiculous hours to meet ridiculous deadlines. I am grateful because I get it. I know many of my friends never did. I think they thought I was either the most trusting or the most stupid of partners. But mostly I am grateful because he came home. I was feeling a tad miffed to be honest and then I heard about a very dear friend’s brother. Who isn’t coming home. All my love and strength goes out to his wife and two very young children and my friend for what lies ahead. Sadly, but realistically, it takes such fundamentally sad events to make me realise once again how much I have to be thankful for. And to remind me how impermanent things are. That’s not frightening, it just is. So I am grateful B is here. For now. And will continue to celebrate every single moment we have together, even when I hate him, because it will end. And because right now I am the lucky one.
I had such a fabulous day yesterday. Playing assistant to director B. If he had suggested that before, never mind how last minute, I would have snorted at the idea. Me. Do that. Are you fucking mad? As in, do you know who I am, how important I am. I don’t even attend my own shoots anymore. Now, you want me to carry the tripod, scout locations, drive you around, traipse into the strangest areas for the most fabulous of shots. You have got to be kidding. But I said yes. Not because I’m so noble but because B said we’d stay at Limes. And he’d pay me. The day started with a frission of excitement the minute I woke up. It clearly was not the prospect of what the day held. Nor the wonderful pay check. Said with a wry note of sarcasm. Not that I am not grateful of course. I think it was the promise of freedom. It was like I was given a free pass to have a day with no responsibility other than to do whatever B told me to. What a fabulous day. We laughed and stumbled, well I stumbled and we worked. Way into the night. I remember at one point under the Storey Bridge as I wrestled with the tripod for the umpteenth time as B changed his lens for the umpteenth time to do the perfect tracking shot for the umpteenth time, I mentioned how amazing it was. Not his shot. But being there. I didn’t have anywhere to go, anywhere to be, but there. Never ever, not one single, very well paid minute in my previous career or life, had I felt that before. There I always felt like I should be somewhere else, doing something more, hurrying up so I wouldn’t be late, for a meeting, for a deadline, for my kids. I was so important. Whatever it was, yesterday under the Storey Bridge I felt content. I didn’t need more. I was with B, my girls were being beautifully cared for by my fabulous friends. I was content. And that I had decided a while ago, is my definition of happiness. To be content. I am so grateful that I am finally realising it doesn’t take much. And that I already have all it takes. But apparently not what it takes to be a good film crew member. B just sent me this shot with this comment “So I’m loving the shot of the hotel until I wonder what that is in the centre of the shot……” In case you’re wondering, it’s my bag. Well, he didn’t pay me enough anyway.
I’m still doing it. I’m still trying to turn B into me. I fell in love with B for him. His quirks, his laid-backness, his dimpled smile, his forearms (not a fetish but they have always done it for me), his irreverence, his perverseness, his independence, his B’ness. His different to me ness. But I have spent the last seventeen years or so trying to turn him into me. Even though I know he will never behave the way I do, because he is not me. He will never respond the way I do, because he is not me. He will never phone home the way I do or when I want him too, because he is not me. He will never drive around the block ridiculously every time he has to be somewhere because he is always 5mins or more early the way I do, because he is not me. He will never do stuff when I want him too just because I want it done then, because he is not me. He will never be irrationally jealous the way I am, actually he will, and I do love that about him. So, I don’t know why I’m still doing it. I don’t even want B to be like me. I am starting to like me a little more, but fuck I’d hate to be married to me. So, I know he will never say sorry the way I do or think I do, because he is not me. I do know. But it still pisses me off. And I know that’s why he does it. And I love him all the more for it.
I am grateful for the fact that today on a Tuesday morning, I got to walk the national park and bob around in the exquisite Laguna Bay. I am grateful to Ilona and Arienne for being as in awe as me. But I am especially grateful to B for deciding Noosa is where we would live, long before I even knew it existed.