I mean to write before. I really did, about these last six months based in Madras. My relationship with the paternal parent is irretrievably screwed up, just as I'd promised the maternal it would be. You'd think living with me around 24/7 (or close enough) would give him a handle on who his daughter really is. Like, I'm not a slut. Not even close. But I do have sex. Sorry to disappoint. On the other hand, things with the mother have been good (as blogged). Don't know about being a prop and a comfort to her in her 'old' age, but the last six months have helped us regain that pally old relationship that used to be such a source of strength to me. Is that the Cancerian in me coming out? But I understand what makes the pater tick better than I do the mater, and that's purely because I'm like the one and not really like the other -- yet I do not forget the harm he causes. Worst yet, I cannot get it out of my head, the bad old memories. They still give me nightmares. Maybe when I have children of my own and am too busy making my own mistakes they won't, but till then...
I've put on weight. You'd have to be a nervous parent (either one of mine will do) to deny the obvious.
V and me went from hell to back to our funny version of utopia. As N very kindly pointed out, it could have been much, much worse -- we could have lost each other -- but what was suffered was just a little too painful for me to be the cheerful martyr. On the other hand, it only reiterated something I've always known about myself, viz. that I suck at letting people go. I rage, and fight, and brood over, and wail, but in the end I find reasons to hang on, to not let go. In this case, it stood me in good stead. The man's worth the trouble.
But others aren't, that I learnt this year. Well, I knew it as an abstract theory, but I find myself re-learning it over for each person I've had to eventually cut loose from. Like relatives who think they love you but are too carried away by their own egos to even look at you straight. Friends who moved away ages ago, only I never realised it.
But the last six months gave me a lot of time with H and his friends, and I guess I appreciate it. I don't make friends easy, but I might've made one or two these last months. Let's see which ones stick around. I'm not being cynical, but in view of all that I came to terms with, I'm afraid I'm a little wary. Ah well, wary or not I sure had a lot of fun courtesy the guys.
I already summed up the year, leaving out inappropriate bits and things I'd rather forget, in my New Year mail to all. (If you haven't got it, you aren't a part of my personal inner circle and who knows, I probably won't ever want to have you there. That's the cynical Sue talking.) So I'm really thinking only of the last six months as I write this. And all things considered (especially the fact that they're bloody over, thank heavens) I think I brushed through them better than I expected. I ran through my money sooner than I expected, but hey, it's me we're talking about, and anyway, my baby's worth her price. Only a third of which has been paid, incidentally. I need a job, did I mention that before? Not want, but need.
I've rather let my academics slide and now am seriously considering whether academia is the world I want after all. I don't think I'm ready for my PhD. But I feel about ready to write my first novel. Or book of (children's) short stories. I've already put V to sleep with more than one of them, so I assume that's proof of their efficacy. I mean, I'd rather read about Kate Fansler's trials than go through them.
Well now, in a day's time it'll be back to Calcutta and the maelstrom brewing there. But Cal's my city, I can handle stuff there. Any authority exerted over me will be accepted only if I allow it. And V will be there. That's important. Well, I need to talk brave, you understand, because over the last few days I almost went into shock again, at the cruelty and the lies my father and his siblings revel in, and I need to be able to hit back should the occasion arise. In a day's time. Let the games begin.