Wednesday, 4th November 2015
Dearest Friend,
Whoa, here we go again – already this journal, like many of my others, have quickly come to a close and the New Year is approaching rather rapidly.
So much has happened since I began this book that I feel nearly like a different person from the young man who started writing with the view that problems, no matter how intense, have a solution in mind.
I firmly believed that by putting pen to paper I was keeping real those optimistic ideals and hopes that change would come, and that the people around me might one day see that too.
I held the notion that I might be bigger than the problems that came my way; only to realize I am just one person capable of their own baggage, only strong enough to take control in the decisions of my own life and not those I care about or those I worry for.
I am troubled enough as it is before being able to try helping my Mother, want more time of my sisters or having the pathetic expectation of my father…
In an ideal world, it would be great if we were all that willing. But, really, we all have our own responsibilities, woes and things going on that, in the end, we never get round to the root of the matter.
I guess what I’m saying is that people are funny and especially interesting when it concerns facing emotions or our troubles… If I’m being perfectly honest I will have to admit that I still have expectations of my family and want so much love from them.
Although I’m an adult now, and I know I’m doing very well for myself independently, I have longings that just can’t go unnoticed… I guess when I say “family” what I really mean is some love and nurturing from Mum.
And I suppose I have these emotional needs because I received so little of it.
I know she has disappointed me so many times and let me down more than pick me up from despair, but she is still my mother…and I love her because of these biological instincts.
As a parent, she is nothing but an utter disgrace.
As a human being, however, I can see how she’s fragile and a broken woman. Even when I get angry at her and want to shake Mum out of this reckless act, I do be reminded of the torture she’s experienced and the cruel start she’s had in life.
I see how life had given her limited opportunities, faced with a limited education and a rebellious social circle of people that led her into a destructive lifestyle.
I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but this was my limited perspective as the son just wanting to be wanted.
I wish I could just shake off this weakness – it’s quite ridiculous that after all the pain, humiliation and isolation that I could still have these tender feelings towards her.
Not because I’m her son but because of a childhood that was robbed from me… I should have grown up being surrounded by people I could count on and influences that would aspire good in me.
I know I had Nanny G occasionally, but I was afraid to ever tell her anything and always viewed visiting her as an escape from the madness. She loved me with the devotion of a parent and accepted me for the sensitive kid I was, without ever judging.
But she never would have comprehended the abuse my sisters and I faced, and neither would she have had the power to prevent it alone. And when I say abuse I don’t just mean sexual.
I tell myself that I did the right thing, that I spoke up once I found my strength and I wouldn’t be in safe hands if it hadn’t been for the social workers involved.
I just have to accept that my family were highly dysfunctional and not equipped to give me the unconditional love that I wanted.
And yet it’s so hard to say that. It’s one thing putting the words down at random, but to admit it as a reality can be very harsh on oneself…
Amazingly, despite all this, life carries on – and that’s the strange part. I’m still growing in a lot of ways and keeping an open mind. I feel privileged to be living in Galway again and to have the opportunity to better my life.
“Keep going!” is what I yell inside.
Where I’m living with Philo is very cosy – I’ve always liked the relaxed presence I get in this house. She still provides me with cooked meals and helps with my laundry, and I really appreciate the support – especially after an intense day at college.
My course efforts and assignments are handed in all on time, as of now, and things seem to be picking up.
The course itself (TV and Film Production level 6) although it relates with what I’ve done 2 years previously, out of enjoyment it wouldn’t be of huge interest.
But for the year, considering I will be seen as a university student at NUI in September, it’s very doable…
Everyone is finding the workload to be a bit of a stress and lecturers themselves admit that it’s not an easy course like many of the others, but rather have intense modules that need that extra push to do well in.
Unlike me, many are actually finding the journalism most mind-boggling, whereas I see law and ethics to be an interesting challenge – considering its relevance for working journalists, the laws involved and ethical views towards media bodies.
I notice people on the course are quite competitive with one another. I tend to speak openly with all groups when I’m invited into a discussion but there’s certainly distance between some of them.
In fact, a particular guy might point out that a particular girl turns her nose down on him because he doesn’t approve of her “feminist bullshit” whereas I can’t make a distinction of whether or not she cares because I’ve never seen evidence of her expressing such views.
I do notice, however, that the young lady in question does tend to have no interest talking with some of the guys in class, myself included, and to be honest I’ve no issue with that.
Like everyone, she’s more familiarized with her own circle of friends, who also come across a little intimidating at times, but the reality is not everybody is going to get along together!
I also forgot to mention that Emanoel has finally received my “creative” surprise.
From the sounds of things, he was very happy with the whole arrangement. The sweet boy has put the framed picture of us in Paris on his study desk, so whenever he’s blue or dreaming he’ll know we’re never that far away from his thoughts.
Interestingly enough, Emanoel’s memories of that holiday are nothing but positive. I demanded he first read my letter and then to watch our video of memories, and he did so with lots of “emotion”… Reading back over those little things I remembered and envisioning the places we visited and times we shared, led Emanoel to miss Ireland a little bit.
I’m sure he’d never see the place as somewhere to call his home, but in some way, it’s where he grew up from a young ambitious boy into a confident man in control of his life.
And I guess I’m privileged if I may be part of that change, or just to be able to witness a greatness form in him…
I know I keep saying it and this contemplation is beginning to get old – I love how he always believed in our friendship and never, really, gave up on me…
I can’t express how rewarding it feels, to know I’ve met someone really special in my life and to know our moments will never die in memory…
I know it would never have been the same, had Emanoel not ended it in Paris as we did.
I try to believe things happen for a reason and that whatever happens afterwards is a learning process.
I will always love him. But I think a lot of my reasoning for that is because I fail to trust easily and Emanoel never failed with his patience.
I also believe, due to the closure that we had, I found it easier to take further action, as really I knew Emanoel wasn’t intense or all that in love to begin with…
I drove ahead in full safety, knowing because he lacked expectations of me I was able to feel at ease and not with the risk of hurting him in any way.
In truth, I loved the challenge and wanted something I couldn’t have. And “wanting” is something I’ve always known, so it’s never stopped being a part of who I am. I still long so much to love and be loved!
Yours always, Jay.