It seems selfish to think about what I want. I don’t do ‘want’, I squeeze it out of my life as much as possible, I try and shun anything that smacks of the sinful, selfish pride that was the greatest fear of my teenage years. But I do want life to be different to how it is now and I am fed up of coasting, I want to take control and have some sort of direction. I found myself grown up before I realised and I had no idea of the life I wanted. I can do surviving but not living.
I do other people’s wants though. I try and incorporate those into my life all the time. Pleasing other people was always the goal set before me; it’s what good girls do. But I’ve realised that sometimes you can’t please other people, not even some of the time. They just don’t want to be pleased, their bad moods and attitudes can’t be placated. I can’t keep selling my soul, I know who I am now and I don’t want to lose that. They’ll just have to take me as I am. If they don’t like me, it’s always their choice not my fault. That’s a big life lesson.
But there are things that I do want. I want happiness. Is that too much to ask? I guess somewhere along the way I learnt or grew to believe that I don’t deserve happiness, that I’ve done too much bad. My happiness is not material satisfaction, although of course it’s easy to think of the material objects that would enrich our lives. The more important things are less tangible and harder to get a handle on.
It’s been a nightmare rollercoaster ride of a couple of years. There’s been so much loss and hurt and pain. But the only constant is my best friend. When I nearly lost him a little way back, my heart rent in two. I don’t think it still has healed properly. So that’s one thing. I never want to lose my best friend. Ever. He is my brick, my hero, my angel. I love him dearly.
Life is better when he’s in my world. He helps keep me sane, balanced, happy. The good times are better when I share them with him. He helps me make it through the bad times. Yes there are too many clichés but that’s life.
I don’t want to lose my best friend. But our relationship too has been on that ride, things have subtly changed and I think we need to take stock sometimes. Make the time to talk and connect.
I think that despite everything, all the ups and downs, mainly downs, we have something good. I like our life and our ethos, the beliefs that we share and supposedly cherish. I don’t think we have fundamentally changed so much that all of that is out of the window. We are the same people.
I want that life, that shared life, that we created for ourselves. I want those beliefs and that ethos. I believe in them. I believe that they are good and that they work for us. That’s something else I want.
Maybe as part of that sitting down to talk and connect then we need to discuss those beliefs a little more. They were the things that drew us together. We need to make more time for the glue and not neglect it. I want that.
There are material things too that I want. As I said, it’s easy to focus on the material. But I don’t think that’s an inherently wicked thing. I want a nice house. A clean house, a tidy house, a finished house. I want a bathroom where I have a sink, a finished floor and rebuilt walls. I want storage space where all that necessary bathroom themed stuff and junk can live and be on hand. I don’t want to brush my teeth in the kitchen sink anymore. I want somewhere where I can clean my face. It’s also a world where the hot water stays working.
There are other rooms too, other rooms which in my ‘I want’ world are completely decorated and easy to manage. No exposed plasterwork, no nasty paintwork from the previous owners. Tile in the kitchen definitely, plenty of paint on the hideous walls and exposed plaster, maybe some new flooring if our ship ever comes in.
This is the house I want to live in. For now, at least. I’m not ready to envision a move, not strong enough for change. I want to live here for a while when it’s all done, to finally enjoy it as a home. That’s what I want.
Some days, well not even for whole days, just some moments I think that I want to return to work, if only to be acceptable and lessen the burden, the guilt. But that’s not really what I want. I want to stay at home and keep house. I know most folks would just laugh at the idea of me keeping house, they all think that I’m a rubbish housekeeper but they forget life and all the wonderful crises, disasters and catastrophes it throws up at us. I want to keep house. I know I can do it and I want to enjoy it.
You see, in my ‘I want’ world, I’d feel better. I’d be well enough most days to do the things that needed doing and then some more. I don’t think I’ll ever be free, totally, of the ME and that will cramp my style some days. So I want a little bit more understanding and appreciation of just what that means and how it makes me feel. OK, that might be a bit of a fantasy world but there’s more. I’ve got even more fantasies.
I want to feel better upstairs. I’ve always been told and have grown to believe that there’s plenty of people who are worse off than me, that I’m just an attention seeker who’s making it up, that I’m not to be taken seriously, that I shouldn’t make a fuss. Well, I don’t think I entirely agree with that anymore. I’m used to living with Depression; it’s the colour scheme that’s followed me pretty much my whole life through. But I want a change. See, I’m getting liberal with that ‘I want’ now. I want to find out if I can live without it, if there’s a different colour scheme out there for my life. Oh, and I want some help doing that. Please?
My best friend has his dreams and I’m all for them, I’ll stand by him and help him realise those as best I can. But I’d like some dreams too. By the looks of his dreams, one day he’ll be our main breadwinner again so then maybe I won’t have to feel quite so bad that I can’t support us like I need to now. So I want to stay at home and work on a few projects, little things that maybe even can bring in a small bit of pocket money now and again. I want to write, I want to photograph, I want to knit. I don’t want to go back out to work again, it doesn’t work me and there have been too many bad experiences. I want a garden, even an allotment one day if I get good at it, to grow food for us. I’ll grow you flowers too, if you want. And I want you to get on with digging that pond you keep dreaming about.
I want my best friend to stay strong and well. My heart can’t take any more breaking, unfortunately. I want him to realise his dreams and to include me in them too. I know that we are strong because we’ve survived all of this so I want us to continue together, sharing things. I want us to start living again; I’ve got fed up of the surviving. I want sunshine and colour in our life, even if it’s only metaphorical.
This is what I want. I don’t know how many words now that I’ve written about what I want but it’s been strangely liberating so maybe I can be forgiven the indulgence.
I want to live. I’ve always known that somehow, it’s why I’ve survived so long.