Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.
‘A place for a soul to rest’
Like most people, I’ve had my fair share of darkness. Yet I consider my life as both blessed and having been immensely rewarding – but it wasn’t always like that. All my life, since childhood, I’ve been considered vaguely odd, different, and as I got older people frequently used the word ‘eccentric’.
Whilst I don’t think I ever deliberately ‘courted’ this labelling, it’s true that I’ve always danced to my own drum and always found myself on the outside looking in. As Robert Frost put it, I’ve always taken the road “less travelled by”.
When I was little, my mother would get upset by peoples’ reactions towards me; she’d say that I was “unique” and that it was them, not me. She never once said anything that wasn’t positive or got exasperated by my inability to just ‘fit in’, as my father did. She had my back and taught me a level of resilience that has stood me in good stead my whole life. When I met my partner of 19 years, he too celebrated the fact that I was, in his words, “quirky”, and I always felt special and loved for it.
I confess, I miss the affirmations of those two pillars in my life, but, thankfully, these days I’m strong enough to weather the storm and stand, though occasionally wobbling, face forward into the driving rain, arms outstretched, and my eyes wide open.
By taking care of myself, I can look myself in the mirror daily and be at peace with the woman who I see staring back at me. Goodness, she’s got older I think to myself, much more wrinkly than I remember, but that doesn’t matter. As long as she can smile back at me, I can wink at her and we can both move on, ready for the day.
Many years ago, before my career, I was hospitalised, sectioned in fact, for nearly a year. I smile when I say this because, bizarrely, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I saw a world in which I did not belong, could not be part of, and desperately wanted to leave.
In that hospital I was lucky enough to meet a man (a psychiatrist) who quite literally changed my life. He taught me to change the way I thought about everything; myself and the world around me. He taught me to celebrate the little things and to see the beauty in everything, including just being. He preached a life where, through all the different hues of darkness and light that illuminate our lives throughout its various stages, you aim to see things from a positive perspective, whatever is thrown at you. This makes everything so much easier to deal with and move on from.
As I’ve said before, I don’t believe in looking backwards with any kind of regret, or clinging onto past slights or sadnesses. And this has allowed me to lay all my personal ghosts to rest and keep moving forward, even when I’ve felt broken and lost. It’s not easy and I’ve had to train myself to do this, but it’s a lesson which, once learned, sets you blissfully free.
Interestingly, I recently listened to an online conference which featured a team of psychiatrists talking about a 10-year study. Their research proved unequivocally that negativity, seeing the worst outcome, or not letting go of past pain is, in fact, nothing to do with a person’s ‘personality’, as is often claimed. These are actually learned behaviours and as such can be changed. They made clear that no one’s ‘personality’ is set in stone, whatever we’ve been taught in the past.
This really resonated with me because it was a revelation when, all those years ago, I found myself in Upton Lawn Hospital. The person I became and am today is entirely different from that young, awkward, anxious, negative woman I used to be.
In line with this, out in the car this morning I was listening to Radio 4 and they were talking about ‘legacy’. One listener posed the idea that without having had children, women might be seen as leaving no legacy. What nonsense! Legacy to me is not dictated by having children, nor is it financial. For me, it’s about how we’ve lived our lives and what we’ve contributed to society and the wider world; in my case the effect I’ve had on those I’ve encountered.
It is, for all of us, about the influence we’ve had in a wider context – the effect being far greater than our individual selves. Of course I’ve made mistakes, loads of them, or wished I’d done things differently – I’m human. But, hopefully, I’ve learned from them and tried to do better next time.
As I said, I see that ‘eccentric’ woman in the mirror with her pink and purple hair, surrounded by furry beasties, and I can put out my hand and feel the tips of her fingers, warm as they meet mine through the glass. Oh what a journey we’ve had together, that woman and I. The things we’ve seen and felt, the changes we’ve experienced in both ourselves and in the world around us. And so, what about the end, how does death figure into all of this?
Well, as an undertaker’s daughter and a retired teacher, it’s all unsurprisingly pre-arranged. My body will be donated to science; my goods and chattels divided amongst friends and charities; any surviving pets thought about and cared for; and, ultimately, in the last instance, my ashes are to be buried in a plot on a beautiful hill, overlooking the countryside. The plot has already been purchased on a natural burial site.
I’m certainly in no hurry to get there, but I’m confident that when I do, it will all go off smoothly. I desperately fancy a full on Gothic, Victorian extravaganza with plenty of champagne, the obligatory black veils and capes, and I’ve told my friends that I expect them to wail. I want wailing women. But I’m a realist! Though, I have stipulated no ‘bright colours’ for me thank you very much – let’s have a bit of black, theatrical drama please.
And when I’ve been carefully laid to rest in that beautiful place, I have visions of my ghost striding along the top of the hill at twilight, a whole host of dogs at my heel, organising all the other ghosts, and setting up a whole number of ghostly hauntings, just so you don’t forget us!
As Marcus Arelius said: “It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.” In my case, I feel I can confidently say, I have lived and I have left my mark on the world, meaning that I can bow out disgracefully when the time comes!
Are you feeling creative? We are proud to have a hugely talented community on Rest Less, which is why we’re so excited to open up a section of the site dedicated to showcasing the wonderful and diverse writing of our members. If you have a piece of creative writing that you’d like to share with the Rest Less community – you can do so here.