If wishes were horses, I just might not ride…

7 Jan

Sometimes I wish I were a few different things. Ridiculous wishes but real just because my feelings and social stress and relational stress as well as the norms of social interaction are quite real! Funny too 🙂

I wish I reacted less, spoke slower, thought more before speaking, was quieter, more polite, more distant, harder to read, harder even to misread (suspending interpretation is quite okay by me!). I wish I were softer, quieter, less passionate about things, didn’t feel every little thing so intensely, didn’t spend hours mulling over ‘what that meant’ in my head…

I wish also that I were the kind of woman people would expect to have an answer, to be gracious, to be right, to have an opinion they would unquestioningly trust, to lean on, to ask about the colour of your curtains, the effect of vinegar on meat, the best places to shop for charcoal in the winter, the meaning of life, the different habits of tea-drinkers in the world, the weather, the new particle in an atom, the theories of  creation, the way to negotiate with anyone, the best car for mileage… Just a regular go-to girl for anything to do with the… business of living.

I don’t necessarily NOT know (or know) any or all of those things. That’s not it. I wish I could give off that sense of comfort and wisdom and knowledge. My sense is that I don’t – not enough.

This isn’t coming out of anything that happened today. But I wish I were nativised enough, yet international enough. I wish I were less invested in my very personal relationships so that I could take distance when I needed to. I wish I was not so invested in everything so as to feel let down. I wish I was not so invested in everything so as to feel I’m letting the side down!

I wish when I talked that I could be quiet, confident and yet not struggle for words. I wish when I talked that I could be a little bit more distant, a little bit less vulnerable, a little bit more secure, a little bit less aware.

But today I miss JK, my mum and PT. So much. And my first graders and my adult learners 🙂

And then I realise, that wishing these things means wishing I’d never had conversations with these people. Old friends. Who do make you feel like they’re always interested and want to be in on ‘our’ news. And constant ones – and mothers, of course – whose love and the showing of it is a standard I now know.

Perhaps I should just wish to love more instead.

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