Dok. of my life

I knew coming home would be hard but I had not taken into consideration all of the aspects of my life that are beyond my control.  Watching my idilic happy family fall apart has never been something I could have imagined happening.  I have never feared for my parents happiness, I have seen mz parents suffer in the past, a lot of the time due to me, sometimes due to death of loved ones or money issues.  Accepting that I have, and can have no control over the situation was my first hurdle.  I think I was under the impression that after a good chat with both of my parents we could sort out all the confusion and go back to happy families.  A hard realisation was that maybe things were only happy families for me, and hopefully my sister too.  Maybe my parents were not truly happy.  The mess that has ensued over the last 3 weeks is indescribable, the pain I have witnessed, the mess that lust and a lack of communication can cause.  It is not my place to feel bad, or suffer, it is hard, but it is hardest for my parents, it is their futures hanging in the balance.  

My main reason for coming home from my happy life in New Zealand was my wonderful family.  Living apart from them, happy or not, is the hardest thing I have ever done.  I figured, if I can build a happy life here, I can build a happy life back in England, I have enough confidence in myself after the last few years to have faith in myself and whatever unfathomable cosmic powers may be on my side.  Coming home to a broken and suffering home was a slight spanner in the works for this plan.  Leaving a boyfriend, and beautiful friends who have become my chosen family on the other side of the world caused me to resent my parents who kissed me onto a plane a year earlier, smiling and telling me that nothing really changes in a year.  It is like that part in the film you love, the part where someone makes a bad choice, or gets into the wrong car, or signs with the wrong record label, and with hindsight I now look at our smiling, faithful faces and I know the truth, that nothing is the same now, it is gone and it is impossible to get back.  Death makes me feel this way, the tragedy of times that will never be the same, faith in something, in this case, marriage.  In the ability to make things work forever, in the words ‘for better, for worse’, what do they mean to me now?

The question I was struggling with during my year abroad was this, do I really want to be here? Can I live without all that I love on the other side of the world.  I eventually decided, no, I cannot, and three months later I made my way home to a very distorted version of a happy memory.  I keep telling myself that I just need to give myself time, but I already find my mind is wandering off to the sunnier side of the world, asking me a very familiar question, only it is aimed in the opposite direction.  Can I live without all that I have given up?  Is it too early to tell? How long should I wait? Am I just being stubborn, or should I be listening to the guilty voice in my head telling me that I don’t even want to get used to life over here, it’s not the life I  want.  

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The Finnish for “to be eviscerated with a broken-glass enema” is “winngli woofti”.

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