Yep, I know, it’s Christmas day and I’m posting a blog with a title that’s about death. Well, it’s not all jingle bells for everyone at this time of year, right?
At the time of starting this, it’s 6:20 am and I’ve been awake for 90 mins crying. On Christmas fucking day…
I would suggest if you want to keep a merry outlook, you perhaps close this down now. This isn’t going to be pretty.
Christmas is hard.
I remember family I don’t see, perhaps because we’re estranged (though I’ve no idea why), the ones who have passed away, and the ones who are still very much here; but I’m becoming increasingly more isolated from. But it’s not only family; it’s about the people who promised me they’re ‘here for me’ only to find they’re gone.
Christmas does that, like old Scrooge you get visit from all the ghosts of your life. Mine is full of them.
The lovers who you thought were everything. The ones you gave your heart too, uncontrollably, unconditionally and completely.
The friends who you thought had your back, well the said they did. But it turns out that for a lot of people, that doesn’t really mean what it appears.
There are so many scenes in our lives and not all of them make the final cut.
So as I sit there, in my home office, tears streaming down my cheeks, keeping myself warm under my electric throw, the only thing I can think of is death.
Who would miss me when I’m gone?
Who would notice if I fell off the face of the earth?
Would anyone try and find me?
Before you call the police (and how many of you would!?) I’m not about to end my life. I may be low as fuck today, but I’m not done with this social experiment just yet.
The one thing that that I have learnt the incredibly hard way is that no one is exactly what they seem.
No one.
We all do the same most of the time. We all present a version of ourselves to the person we’re faced with at that moment. We tell them what we think they want to hear. We make all the right noises. And for most people that is fine and dandy.
Not for me.
I am not most people.
I am someone who has fought to keep themselves alive. I have ridden so many waves I’ve lost count. Not only that, I heavily suspect I have ADHD, which brings its own excitement. And not only that, I’m a hopeless romantic, for want of a better phrase. I fall in love far too easily. I give myself away too cheaply.
I’m easy to break? No.
There are very few people who know all my story, but there are some who have come incredibly close. They are the ones who have the power to destroy me. They are the ones who can truly break me. They are the ones that scare me.
The ones who snuck in at the back. The ones who appeared in my life when I least expected it. Who turned up as themselves, 100%. In turn they allowed me to do the same. But then we have this dance of death. Are they telling the truth?
Do I follow?
In the words of Buck Dharma…
Come on, baby (and she had no fear)
And she ran to him (then they started to fly)
They looked backward and said goodbye (she had become like they are)
She had taken his hand (she had become like they are)
Come on, baby (don’t fear the reaper)
These lines always come back to me when I feel this way. The song is allegedly about love and the inevitability of death. But to me this one passage is about losing yourself in someone, so much so that the rest of the world pales into insignificance.
But what happens when that person leaves? When perhaps your spidey senses got it wrong and they weren’t who you thought?
Well, that my friends is why you end up in tears on Christmas day.
You cry for the one or two who really penetrated your defences. The one or two who told you they loved you and you actually believed it. Because most of the time I don’t. Is that an ADHD thing?
The ones who took your hand and made you fly. The ones who made you feel like you really didn’t need to fear death, life or anything.
If you know who you are, reading this, then know that I love you, even if we’ve never met. Even if you’re not mine. Because someone somewhere needs to know you love them.
If you made it here you deserve a medal. I’ve written this through tears, a chaotic brain and on a bloody phone.
Thank you…
Not Middle Aged 