Writing from my perspective. I have to stop and think what is my perspective? Is it the view I see while I’m writing…the challenge of uploading my blog post, complete with pretty images, before my erratic Wifi connection times out. Do I ask myself why I’m blogging in the first place?
What was the reason I began blogging? A pure passion for writing is what started me. My son, the techno whiz kid, signed me up and off I went. My mission was to test the waters….see if people liked my writing. If I was successful maybe a publisher might consider looking at my ‘yet to be put into some semblance of order’ manuscript. With or without followers, it was rewarding to write something from my heart….search the internet or my box of random photos for the perfect image that reflected my story….and finally press the Publish button.
To see my writing published on screen was something to be proud of even if nobody else read it. At night in bed I’d open up to my WordPress site and admire the pretty layouts….edit out mistakes….look hopefully for feedback. None. Even my family couldn’t summon up the interest to look at my blog. I posted a Valentine’s Day poem to a man I’ve been in love with for thirty years. It’s a kind of unrequited love. I cunningly sent him a link to my blog for two reasons. Firstly, for him to read the simple poem in which I profess my love for him. Secondly, in the hope that he might look through my posts and maybe think there might be something more to me than a boring single mum who left school at fifteen and is reliant on a government pension. He being Mr Successful, Wealthy Business man and all.
I sent him a text…”Hope you received my Valentine’s Day message.”
The phone rings…he sounds impatient.
“What is this message you’re talking about?”
“I sent you a text with a link”
“No…I didn’t get that….what is it?”
“Just click on the link and it will take you there..”
“What link…I don’t have a link”
“Oh….I’ll send it again.”
“Just TELL ME…what is it?”
“Well…it’s a poem….I’m hardly going to read it to you over the phone.”
“All right…I’ll take a look.”
Clunk…the phone hangs up. Even he can’t be bothered looking at my blog.
The phone rings again.
“I can’t find any poem….all I can see is headings with streams of verbiage.”
My stomach does a final twist to the tightness that has been building since the start of our conversation. ‘Verbiage’…he might as well just say ‘Crap.’ I act all casual…flippantly sarcastic.
“Don’t worry darling…it’s nothing to get yourself stressed over….forget it, the moments ruined now.”
“Ok…bye” he says and hangs up the phone.
I sit down to my laptop and hold back the tears. I begin another blog. My blogs name is HOPE but in this moment I make the title of my new post….SHREDDED HOPE. I’d been so happy redecorating my blog with its new upgraded theme. It was all I talked about all weekend. I did it in preparation for him to see. My fourteen year old son walks past and asks how my writing is going.
“Do you want to have a look at my new theme?” I ask hopefully. Hopeful…because I can bounce back from disappointment.
He screws up his face and says “Nup.” He keeps his eyes on me because he is intuitive like me. He can sense there’s something wrong. He pulls up a chair and sits beside me. That’s when the floodgates opened and I told him how I might as well give up. How I spend all this time making the site look great and I really don’t know why I bother. There’s no point. I turn my laptop to face him.
“Here..this is how I feel.”
He reads ‘Shredded Hope.”
His face crumples and suddenly he is crying. He’s devastated that his mother is crushed. He hugs me tight and I tell him I’m Ok…I’m just having a bad moment…I’ll be fine.”
“But Mum…you’re not fine…I’m worried about you.”
We hug for longer and we talk and he makes me feel better. He asks me to lie with him until he goes to sleep. I’m aware I’ve made him feel insecure. No child likes to know their parents are fragile. I squeeze onto his single bed and we lie looking out at the dark sky with the shadows of trees and stars sparkling in the distance and he tells me about his day at school. About his Science lesson on the early theories about hormones. He talks and talks and all I do is look up into his handsome profile in the dark as he gazes up to the sky and I marvel listening to this amazingly bright child with his insightful ideas. He is telling me how the brain is the controller of everything in the body and I ask him if he should think further and consider God may be the controller. He is off on a whole other level of thought…my genius son.
“Mum, I was so inspired when I left the classroom today, I thought I really want to research and find a cure for cancer.” Hearing that, from my perspective and knowing how clever he is…I believe he will try. I believe he will do something amazing one day. I lie with him until he’s asleep, thinking about the circumstances which led me to lie down beside him….a rare occurrence these days. He inspires me and encourages me….I hope I do the same for him.
He walked past me as I was writing this post. “Wow…you’re writing another one….I’m so proud of you. You’ve really overcome a lot of things lately Mum….yesterday you had your first operation under anaesthetic….now you can’t stop writing…..you’ve got some followers!” He bends his six foot frame down to wrap me in his big bear embrace and reiterates…”I’m just so proud of you Mummy.”
From my perspective, joining in on the Daily Posts and Writing challenges has opened me up to a whole world of interesting people and topics and diverse points of view. I’ve made wonderful contacts with lovely people….people who do appreciate my writing. People who take the time to express their appreciation for what I’ve written. I’ve found people whose writing touches my heart and the long list of people I follow has grown and flooded my inbox.
And so it is with renewed hope that I might yet still get my poems and stories out to the world about losing a parent to dementia…about relationships….about bringing up a gifted child….about the struggles of single parenthood…..about…whatever the daily prompts bring to mind. Everyday life is an adventure….capturing that adventure in writing is a challenge….a glorious, exciting, therapeutic challenge….that is my perspective.