I am not sure when she arrived. Sitting there in the shadows. She just crept into my life.
When I look back she was not there when I was ten years old merrily tripping about as a butterfly but she did arrive when I did the Chinese dance. Up she stomped demanding that I go in the Chinese dance stating quite clearly that I would never be good enough for the lovely Spanish dance and its pretty dresses or skinny enough for the Arabic.
She really made a stink in my ballet exam. Without a glamorous and posh Mum to fight my corner there was no one to stop her you see? Everyone said I was going to get Honours I was one of the best dancers in the school top marks for me. But no she rubbed several points out made sure I passed but took away the honour of honours.
Don’t think I have not tried to get rid of her. I had a year when I was first at Art College doing my foundation course when I manages to send her on holiday and I honestly thought she had gone. I painted, made drawings, made textiles, ceramics and had a lovely happy time being a creative soul. Still dancing I smiled through life doing my own creative thing.
Moving to London I set up on the textiles course. There she was weaving her way back into my life. She walked about the corridors, drank tea with fashion students and sat laughing in the staff room smoking cigarettes with my tutors and whispering in their ears. She with her weaving winding spinning of nasty tales made sure there was no room for me on that course. But before I left she created a shiny bright tapestry of all my confidence, self-esteem, sense of creative self and the right to be there. It was beautiful all shiny and glittering of all my hope. Naturally she got top marks.
Whilst she was off weaving her wicked tales I made some big bright paintings and quietly dabbled in textiles. The glitter bits of high self-esteem were missing but shiny bits were cool. Of course she wasn’t away for very long. Every time I had an exhibition she would turn up. Grabbing herself a large red wine she would stand there in the corner staring, laughing at me and then would borrow a tenner. To be honest I couldn’t afford her. A glass of wine here, there everywhere she followed me to every party keeping me up all night filling my head with doubts and spending all my money.
Naturally she cannot leave. No one else will put up with her. To be honest she has been around so long now I have learned to live with her. She is rather wearisome and takes up too much time with her cynicism and anger. I generally ignore her as I am an optimistic soul. She lets me do a bit of creative stuff but meeting her needs are so time consuming generally I don’t bother with anything big. Anyway she would never let me finish anything.
But recently I have been thinking about “her”. Lately she has taken to sitting on my shoulder and I am exhausted with dragging her around. She has not aged well. Increasingly bitter and angry the booze and fags have taken their toll and I am not sure if I can turn fifty with her still about. I have told her she has got to go. Well actually I didn’t say that but I said she could only stay if she helps me about more and stops being so damn negative. If she has got nothing else to say then she needs to be quiet. I need a bit of peace.
Who knows whether she has really listened to what I have to say is that she has been quieter. Gosh life is far less disruptive when she is not perched there muttering her negativity. I suspect Mrs “Who does she think she is” is finally making plans to move out of my life and be gone.