It’s a beautiful sunny Sunday morning and I’m listening to Dire Straights ‘Going Home’. I look up to see the crystal hanging in my window and see it winking a clear green brilliant light straight into my eyes. It showers me with beautiful rainbow light and there’s peace in my heart.
I
remember a few years ago things were completely different. Filled with mixed emotions there was a
knowingness tinged with a reluctant sorrow.
Why reluctant? Because I had
begun to discover what my role was to be in life. As a result, I made a reluctant decision. The reluctance came from not wishing to feel
sad anymore.
Over
the years, I have never been one to build myself a treasure chest of ‘bottom
drawer’ stuff for a time when I would eventually meet the man I was to marry. Basically, because I never thought I
would. Instead, I had been building up a
collection of books. Certain types of books,
that I had chosen to give away.
Anyone
who knows me, knows that my books are my ‘babies’. The ones I had chosen to part with were filled
with entertaining metaphorical stories, wisdom, knowledge and delightfully colourful
pictures. They provided a simple pleasure
for all the senses. I had been collecting
them for a day in the distant future. But,
for a perfectly sensible reason, I made a decision to live in the present. Part of that decision was to let go of a
dream that every little girl holds in her heart.
Remembering
those neighbours, friends and family that entered my home, they are hazy images
now, but I do remember their delighted faces while they routed through my
prized collection, excited to be offered such a free gift. Though I began to notice a certain reluctance
on their part. I could see their
hesitation. Not knowing quite why, they sensed
what they were taking from me. I
witnessed a tinge of sadness and regret passing fleetingly over their faces as
they dipped into the boxes I had dusted down and opened up so the contents could
fly to places where they would do most good.
After
they had left, with the books clutched safely in their arms, I looked at the
empty box that had cradled them and began to understand why. I had been building a collection of
delightful pleasures for those that would enter as another role took hold of my
life: that of a mother.
Incidentally,
why I thought I would become a mother without a man, I don’t know. For I had no intention of ever rearing one without
the support of the other! I’m an old-fashioned
type of gal and believe children require both male and female direction. In my eyes, men can never be redundant from
that role. Nor, indeed, any role.
I
had noticed over the passing years, that many people feel pity for women who
have no children. And I am one of those women
who draws that kind of sentiment from others. Unintentionally, of course. When they first get to know you, they ask a
number of questions and inevitably, you begin to know what the next one is … “Have
you any children?” When I answer “No” then
when I see the look upon their face, I quickly respond with a “Oh, don’t be sad
for me!”
For
one reason, or another, the ‘mother role’ never quite entered my life. Not for young children anyhow. Instead, I had a quite different kind of
child. I realised I was guilty of ‘mothering’
the men in my life. In order to
understand this, I have to take you back a wee bitty.
I
admit to being a slow starter on the relationship front. In my 20s, I was an innocent girl recently
launched from an all-girl’s school and bubble-like home-life, and hoisted into
an environment where it was difficult to meet members of the opposite sex. By the time I reached my 30s, I became a
beguilingly, tantalising woman and pushed my personal boundaries. I learned all the lessons men played with
women - and I became Delilah (of the Samson story).
Suffice
to say, through that phase I quickly learned that I was a confident woman who
could have anyone I wanted. It became all
too easy for me. I played with men. The way I thought they played with women,
because I thought it was fun. Britney’s
‘Oops’ was my mantra for a long time (if it had been released then, of course!). That was until I saw sense and gave up on the
devilish game.
When I eventually entered into a
relationship that I felt could bring me a ‘whole and perfect role’, I began to
hunger for a completeness that never came.
I offered support, I let go of my teasing playfulness and settled into what
appeared to be dull domesticity. I learned
to nurture. I gained strength in patience. I developed a caring role for the man I was
with by serving him, consoling him and sympathising with him. I wanted him to return to me after the day’s
battle, so I could sooth his wounds and give him the strength he needed to
fight the next fight - at work (even though I was working too!). I wanted to warm his belly with tasty food
and fluid and renewed his spent spirit with kind encouragement.
But through all this, I couldn’t quite
figure out how to keep my sexuality intact.
I desperately wanted to express it, because I cannot deny that I love
the close proximity of a man. I take a
particular delight in the smell, the feel, the sound of him. To me that sticky oneness was the glue that
held a couple together. But I was
looking after him. I began to realise I
was in the ‘mother role’ with the man
I had chosen to create that very role with.
Confusion inevitably set in.
At the time, I didn’t realise my
‘mothering’ was putting him off! I
didn’t realise it was making him feel ‘redundant’ and useless. I didn’t understand how I was taking control
of his life and not allowing him to make the decisions he needed to make to
keep me safe. I was taking that
all-important male power thing away from him and killing his passion.
Most of us want to be loved. We want to be cared for. We want to have that assurance that no matter
what we do – it’s going to be alright. There’s
no question about that. We all seek an
individual to satisfy the question in us that says ‘I’m okay’. Mum is the person we tend to turn to for that
message. When we don’t have a mum to
confirm that, we seek it elsewhere. Whether
that be in the arms of one wo/man (or many) or our jobs or our friends, is up
to the individual to make that choice.
I know many men who want to be loved. They know that if they are cared for and made
to feel secure, they live longer and more fulfilling lives as a result of it. But they also need the ‘excitement’ too! Isn’t life confusing!
What I have learned from all of this,
from living in the now and from loving the men who have entered my life – as brothers,
as sons, as friends - is that I can never hope to fulfil the role of mother
with a potential lover. I have also learned
to value the person who has become me. To
become the female I want to be, not what others expect me to be. In knowing this, I know I can love men
without any entanglement. This allows me
to love them all, equally. Even the hunters
and players out there. Because I know their
games and, more importantly, the reasons for them. But that doesn’t mean to say I have to
indulge in them too.
To be able to love is to be able give
without the expectation of receiving. To
honour that other person and to let them go do their own thing without ‘owning’
them. To allow them to make their own
mistakes. And feel complete in living my
own life without guilt. As a result of
this lesson, I have learned to become generous in my spirit. In that generosity, my life has become more
fulfilled. I feel more complete and
balanced. In that, I have more power
over my own life and decisions than I’ve ever had before.
Thinking this way, helps you
understand that it really doesn’t matter to who wants to share your life – or who
doesn’t. If they wish to share the journey
with you, begin to take that as a compliment.
Walue their time, their essence, their willingness to spend those few
moments of their own precious lives in your presence. But it is wise to never demand it from
them. If they wish to give, learn to be grateful
for the gift.
As
life continues and things don’t happen the way they are ‘supposed to’, you
begin to understand that there is no point in living with the regret of what
you never had. It is done. Over with.
There is nothing that you can do to alter that. Except forgive yourself (and others) for the
decisions you (or they) made. There really
is no point in hoping and trusting or dreading and fearing the future either. All you have is now. The past is gone, the future is depending on
the decisions you make in the present. So,
one way to do this is to think about the future you want and to make decisions
that give yourself peace of mind and heart.
The
decision you make now, in this moment in time, will bring about what happens in
the next minute, hour, day, month, year – lifetime. And if you decide to be content with the
moment, trust me, the world becomes one with you.
That’s
one of the reasons, I decided to let go of my collection of books. I allowed my books about ‘children’ and how
to be a mother to leave the nest. Not
because of bitterness or regret. Not
because I was feeling sorry for myself.
Or that I wanted pity from others.
But because I wanted them to go out and give others the knowledge and the
wisdom they held.
All
the ‘mother in me’ hopes is that any childless woman (or man) needs to know is
to not be afraid of what life holds. To
understand that you can take pleasure in whatever life gives to you. It’s an adventure and the other people that
enter your life, they come into it for a reason, to help you learn about
yourself.
Kaye
Bewley © 2014 www.BewleyTherapy.com
