'Our Father'

I have just read my sister's most recent post for Sunday Scribblings and I feel compelled to write something of my father as well. It's always hard to think about this without it bringing that familiar lump to my throat. It amazes me how an absence can cause so much damage. But I wonder what our life would have been like with him in it.

I have very few happy memories of our father, sad really that when I look back I cannot recall a solid memory to convince myself that even though he abandoned us, he really did love us. It is hard to believe that he is out there somewhere living his life, being a father and a husband. He feels fictitious to me now, a myth, a character I have made up. It is hard to believe that he hasn’t tried to write or phone or visit his two daughters in the last 21 years. It is also hard to believe that talking or thinking about him still makes me cry.

Once he had left for good we never spoke of him, and it is only in recent years that I actually found out some of the details of what he did and what he was really like. I still feel uncomfortable when people ask me about him, I feel ashamed that he treated my mother the way he did, that I share his DNA and that I pined for a father that didn’t love me enough.

He used to carry me on his shoulders when I was little, a rare treat that let me see the world from this giant’s viewpoint. I’ve always worried what characteristics of his would come out in my personality, that I would suddenly become angry, sullen and a liar. I have been angry, I have been withdrawn, I have even embroidered on the truth a little, but these are not the characteristics that define me. His genes made me the tallest girl in my school, and that about covers it.

I pity him now, that he will never know us or see our success or watch us get married or hold his first grandchild (things I keep my fingers crossed for, for Susannah and myself). But I can’t forget what a predicament he put us in, and what a struggle it has been. So I thank my lucky stars that we have a mother who despite all of this has loved us more than anything our entire lives. It is so rare that his absence upsets me anymore, and the nine-year-old girl has started to play again.

A Sprinkle of Confidence

I did it... I got the job. I had an interview on Tuesday for some new teaching work. It is at a very good university, the one I graduated from nearly ten years ago in fact. I went along with a porfolio of my work and some examples of the kind of briefs I set and a few butterflies in my stomach.

It couldn't have gone better. All my fears went as we chatted about illustration and teaching. My confidence and enthusiasm shone through and I was offered the job on the spot. In fact I was offered a much more significant position than I expected and am excited about getting started. It was such a thrill to finally have someone recognise my potential and abilities as a teacher. The college I have been working for over the last nine years has never done this. Though I have the best immediate boss on one of the courses, Louise is a lovely friend and full of the enthusiasm and imagination that could make the course great.

It's always worth working hard for something, and what we learn in the struggle can make us stronger. I am glad to finally make some progress. For the first time in my life I believe that I am truly happy. I am myself, warts and all, I am not trying to be anyone else, to live my life through stories, through my family, through a man. I am full of joy in work and friendship and love, and I send some out into the universe. Make a wish... Believe...

Summer Days

What a week it's been. It's funny how you can have a string of difficult times to deal with and your levels of positivity go right down. Then just around the corner the universe sorts you out and reminds you how lovely life can be. My lovely friend Biddy got married on friday to Jon and I was lucky enough to share the day with them. Biddy, Bridget, looked beautiful in a dress that was originally made and hand printed by her mother in the sixties when she was at art college! Everyone cried when they exchanged vows, but my tears came later as I saw how happy Biddy looked. She has had some tough times in the past, and really deserves to be finally happy, and so in love. Jon is great, and not afraid to tell us all how much he loves her. It was a beautiful day with boat trips and bbqs.

The photos show my lovely friends, who are all very loud and lovely and refuse to let me back in my shell.

I am grateful

I have been feeling like I never have any time, feeling stressed and rushed, feeling thin, stretched and tired. I have been hoping for good news at work, that finally someone will realise what I could bring to the illustration course if given more responsibility and hours. I am still in the dark about what will happen after the summer, lots of promises and 'don't worry you'll be fine' but money and time is running out. The weather seemed fitting, after days of sunshine today was rainy and humid. I got home late and not my usual springy self.

But really what do I have to feel down about? My life is actually pretty great, and I should make the most of every moment. So inspired by Penelope I have decided to recognise the things that I am grateful for each day. Hopefully in the form of some experiments with media!

Five things I am grateful for:
1. The coolness of the rain after sleepless nights.
2. My big sis who can make the most impossible or painful times seem manageable, my light in the dark...
3. The phone call offering me an interview for some new teaching work.
4. My home, unfinished, untidy but all mine.
5. The smiling face that i wake up to every day, who can make me laugh even when i'm crying.