We have arrived at the end of a year which has been, for many of us, a year of pain and loss, a year of turmoil and grief, a year of recognition and acceptance. It is hard to look life in the eye and say, 'Go on then, I DARE you' and even harder to deal with the challenges that are thrown back at you if do. There is a catchphrase 'be careful what you wish for' and dealing with the challenges does not always bring the outcome you expected.
This year, I have dealt with some of those challenges. The 'L'Oreal' incident in October severley rocked my boat and it took some time before I was able to get the ship steady again (pun absolutely intended). However, this Christmas was just about THE best that I can remember. Neil and I were happy with each other and he was funny and sociable with company, only having one or two cringeworthy moments. He seems to have come to a place where he can have a sensible attitude to alcohol, where it no longers dicates and overpowers him. Our new-found sobriety has allowed us the courage to examine the core of our relationship and found it to be solid as a rock. However, some of the outer layers were beginning to look a bit frayed and these have been renewed or replaced.
We have discovered the shadowy underworld of Low/No..... alcoholic drinks with the alcohol removed or severly restricted and that has been a lot of fun, although we are apalled at the lack of choice in both supermarkets and pubs. Our local brewery, Harveys, does a couple of cracking low alcohol ales which, so far, we have only been able to get direct from the brewery shop. We also get weird and vaguely pitying looks when we ask the store/pub staff if they sell low/no. I feel a letter to the paper coming on......
Having spent a ghastly amount of 2006 crying from rage and grief, from despair and loneliness and, worst of all, from self-pity (what a loathsome creature that is), it was wonderful to spend a lot of Christmas Day crying from laughter, and from joy, as I open my eyes and see clearly the love for me in all its different forms.
I am my Father's daughter in this repect, being overwhelmed by tears of emotion, and I have often found myself unable to speak/sing/read out loud, when the emotions get too powerful. I remember seeing Free Willy with Lizzy, when we sat in the front row and blubbed from the opening scenes to the credits at the end. I also recall a Christmas at Julia's when we gathered round for a group reading of A Christmas Carol, all had to read out loud a section of the book. Julia had to finish off my reading as I disolved into a liquid mess. And I will never forget the first full rehearsal in Bournemouth of Britten's War Requiem, where the unbearable pain and raw emotion of the piece had me sobbing uncontrollably during the break, and there were many times during the performance when I was too choked-up to sing.
Neil Diamond, a singer with a voice crackling (another pun intended) with emotion sang ' Dry your eyes and take your song out, it's a newborn afternoon, and if you can't recall the singer you can still recall the tune. Dry your eyes and play it slowly like you're marching off to war, sing it like you know he'd want it, like we sang it once before.' What superb lyrics!! So 2007 will be a time to do just that, to dry my eyes and take my song out in the newborn afternoon of my life. I can't wait!!
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