The Varnished Untruth
Page 30
On that cheery note, I’ll say thank you for staying with me. I suppose it hasn’t been easy. And if I’ve triggered thoughts about your own life, your own pain, I’m glad. In many ways, that was the point of it all. But I want you to feel hopeful, so here’s the essential truth about raising children: if a child feels that she is loved for who she truly is – rather than for who her parents want her to be – she will be happy and feel safe in the world. Can you do that for your kids? OK, then. Thank you. I feel good now. Don’t forget, will you . . . ?
In the evening of life, we will be judged on love alone.
Saint John of the Cross
Strange, my other, therapist’s voice is quiet now. We are one. It’s a relief she’s stopped talking, analyzing. Just like my mother . . . Ahh . . . Are they one? Now that I no longer sense her expectations of me – that inner push, push, push I inflicted on myself – I can finally breathe . . .
But let’s you and I revisit Brazil for a short while, walk calmly along the beach in Porto Seguro. The tourists are gone just now. The thump, thump, thump of the loud speakers are absent for a bit. You can even hear the breeze ruffling the palm fronds. It’s low tide, and someone’s out there, picking up sea-urchins. Hey, there’s a shack selling açaí, that Amazonian energy berry, and am I just imagining it or is the sand dotted with large, round craters, the impressions left by scores of women with gigantic Brazilian bums – bom dudas they call them – proud manifestations of the fact that, for all the women in the world, body image is shaped by culture. The wind picks up and we break into a scamper. My thighs are flapping, my tummy is bouncing, but I no longer care.
And other important things have happened while we’ve been together – I’ve told you who I am. And you’ve formed your own opinion, which is your right to do. I wish I could honestly say that whatever it is, it’s OK, that I don’t mind . . . But, well, I do, so be nice. What’s more important, though, is how do I now see myself? Well what I always needed to see myself as – a survivor. And I’ve finally become a proud woman who has learned to value – far above all her achievements – her ability to be more at peace with herself. It’s taken a long time, but ahhhh – I’m here. What is WRONG with me? At last I know the answer – hah! I never thought I’d say this but the answer is – nothing too terrible!
So, now, let’s talk about you . . . Who exactly are you? Yes, you . . . I’m listening . . .
Who are you?
Progress Notes – Dr P. Connolly
Patient has made a good recovery. In recounting, reliving and re-assessing her life – including previous trauma, illness and past treatment – there has been a positive shift in her self-perception. All too often, healing from childhood trauma, anxiety disorders, stress, eating disorders – in fact any kind of psychological challenge – can be a frustrating process of ‘two steps forward, three steps back’. Fortunately, the patient has summoned the perseverance to continue the painful process of self-examination, and it seems to have paid off. She understands the role of risk-taking, extensive physical self-improvement, over-eating and compulsive care-taking in her life, and has learned how to manage them.
It has been healing for her to tell her story; after listening to others for so many years, the patient herself needed to feel fully heard.
She now self-identifies as a survivor, rather than a victim. This is a breakthrough.
However, although the patient does have considerable perspective on her parents’ own circumstances, and can intellectually explain their abandoning actions – including what she experienced as a lack of love and understanding – she regrets that she has so far been unable to ‘forgive’ them. I say, ‘forgiveness’ is overrated. In fact, her continuing anger towards her parents is an unconscious means of staying connected with them. One day she will realize this and let go of her fury. That will be her moment to move on.
In the meantime, her rage serves certain useful purposes, such as fuelling her passion for adventure – which is, after all, essentially life-affirming. And it has facilitated the escaping of many yowling cats from an extremely large bag on which is inscribed ‘The Varnished Untruth’. In view of this veritable plague of feline creatures, perhaps she should have called it (in reference to the quote on page 3) ‘World Split Open’.
But perhaps not . . . I still hear a faint meowing . . .
Case closed . . . for now.
GRATITUDE
I’m grateful to all the women in my life. After experiencing my mother’s coldness and envy, it took me time to learn to feel safe with women generally. But my girlfriends, especially Sharon, of course, but also Trudy, Michelle, Aly, Kathy, Tania, Sarah, Jo, Lizzie and many others, including Lu – my healer, mentor and guru – have taught me the things my mother was unable to teach – especially how to be a woman. And, just as importantly, they’ve helped me take myself less seriously. My daughters have shown me how wonderful it is to give and receive affection. And Martine, who has now worked for our family for twenty-six years, has been the best mummy a grown woman could ever have. As for Nanna and Auntie Sally – without them I might never have been able to feel loved or safe in the world.
I am grateful to all the men in my life – the goodies and the baddies – I have learned from each and every one. Andre, Paul, Steve, Dennis, Phil, Terry – as well as every one of my gay friends – have taught me that there are wonderful, kind and nurturing men in the world. As far as my lovers are concerned, yes, there have been many. I haven’t used real names for the few I’ve mentioned in this book, because I think they would prefer to be anonymous, and I would certainly like them to respect my privacy, too. But the most profound learning in my life has often occurred via my lovers. Perhaps I only truly learn in the presence of someone with whom I share intimacy; for therein lies safety and ultimate acceptance. OK, eroticism is thrilling and powerfully life-affirming, but embraces are sweeter – and more healing. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
I was very lucky to meet Billy. He’s been a rock, a sanctuary in my life, although many people – including me, early on – have imagined it was the other way around. But he has provided me with longed-for consistency of affection, and the closest thing to unconditional love you can get past the age of five. Oh, he’s also upsetting and infuriating sometimes, and a terrible curmudgeon. When he’s on stage he talks about me behind my back – God knows what people know about me that I’m unaware of. And one day I really am going to throw that banjo out the window, I swear. But did you know he’s now a visual artist as well as everything else he excels at? He does absolutely brilliant drawings. Proper scary stuff, actually; as dark as all good art should be. He thinks I analyse them, but I really don’t . . . Well, not all the time . . .
As for my children – what wise creatures they are, all five of them. I asked each for ‘bad Mom’ highlights – expressly for your reading pleasure – and Scarlett, for one, sent quite a comprehensive list:
1. Your habit of landing the plane from your airline seat, arms outstretched. (Yes, I used to pretend I was flying the plane. Even when the girls were old enough to know I wasn’t really controlling it from my seat, I still kept it up – to their . . . amusement? Horror? Mixture of both?)
2. You showing up in curly green elf shoes to pick us up from school on St Patrick’s Day. (Got that. See page 267.)
3. You introducing yourself to my first college roommate as me when I was getting another box from outside. Needless to say, she was very confused. (Don’t even remember that. But a good wheeze, eh?)
4. Your hope that my lack of boyfriends in high school was due to lesbianism. P.S. I’m sorry I disappointed you. (Hah! Hah! Very true!)
5. You and me getting chased down a very skinny path by a ram around the edge of the Grand Canyon when we were on that road trip – I think we were wearing the army helmets Neil purchased for us at the time. (Oh yes! Neil MacLean is Billy’s cousin, a hilarious man who lives in LA. And that ram really was vicious. But more of a mountain goat, methinks? Perhaps it f
eared we were a small army invading its territory? )
6. You requesting that I do a hip hop number to Outkast’s ‘Rosa Parks’ for Grandma when she was in the hospital, which I did. (Now that’s just plain weird. Did I really?)
7. I needed a last-minute costume for my friend’s birthday when I was about ten and you dressed me in all your clothes as Carol Channing, even though I had NO clue who she was. I was a huge hit with all my friends’ parents, however . . . (A thoughtful and creative parental response, I say.)
8. You used to say I looked like the Gerber [baby food brand] baby, and for one of my birthdays you got me an enormous Gerber baby cake – VERY disturbing. (Now, what’s wrong with that? Don’t make me use my CAPS LOCK to whip your ass!)
I also have plenty of lovely Mom stories. However, I assume that’s not the angle you’re going for . . . That list is much longer. Xxx (Awww! Love you, too!)
Yes, as I told you before, my children think I’m ridiculous, and they’re quite right. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when they discuss me, to observe the eye-rolling complaints. They’re old enough and smart enough now to second-guess me, and some may even try to parent me from time to time. I won’t object. You can look after me, if needs be; just don’t ever treat me like an old lady. I’ll race you to the beach.
MY STAIRS
Just in case you’re wondering, I do know I’m blessed, so please stop thinking I’m a spoiled, ungrateful bitch. Wherever I am in the world, there are seven stairs. Somewhere, anywhere. It doesn’t matter – I find them. And I climb up and down in gratitude:
Up
1st stair
Thanks for the love I receive and give
2nd stair
Thanks for my health and the health of my family
3rd stair
Thanks for the food, clothing, shelter – and many other gifts – my family and I receive
4th stair
Thanks for my friends – their love and support
5th stair
Thanks for all the fun and laughter in my life
6th stair
Thanks for my ability to grow and learn
7th stair
Thanks for my ability to be grateful
Down
7th stair
I let go of my anger
6th stair
I let go of my bitterness
5th stair
I let go of my hatred
4th stair
I let go of my envy
3rd stair
I let go of my distrust
2nd stair
I let go of my longing
1st stair
I let go of my pain
THANK YOUS
Several kind people read the manuscript and offered suggestions that I mostly ignored, notably: ‘Did you really have to make it all about you?’ (Billy); ‘Wish you could tell the real story. It’d make Fifty Shades of Grey look like The Little Mermaid’ (Kathy Lette); ‘The part of Sharon needs expansion’ (Sharon). They had idiosyncratic reactions to various items, such as the masseur story: ‘Take it out!’ (Billy); ‘No one’s going to believe you didn’t shag him’ (Kathy); and ‘You mean he didn’t . . . ? Damn! I paid him $250 to get you off’ (Sharon).
Fortunately, Carly Cook provided proper, helpful suggestions – as well as wonderful support – while Jo Roberts-Miller gave me sterner, detailed notes to stop me getting cocky. And Trevor Leighton made me look much prettier on the cover than I do in real life (and I mean MUCH!) – turn up at a book signing for a closer look; you’ll soon see what I mean.
Right from the start, Kerr MacRae showed very kind enthusiasm for this book, and without him I would not have had the gumption to write it. He also dances a mean Scottish reel, which in itself makes him a superior human being. My agent Ed Victor took time out of his busy life to look after my interests. Thank you, Ed. No one likes to be interrupted when they’re lying in a rosemary bath being hand-fed Bündnerfleisch by Nigella Lawson.
And I suppose I should thank my parents for being dead so I could complain about them. Hah!
Oh, stop it. Did I ever say I was nice?
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
1. The missionary and the merchant – Grandma (‘Nanna’) and Grandpa Thomas in Fiji.
2. Silly hats aboard ship – Mum and Dad, and Auntie Sally opposite, New Year’s Eve 1960.
3. ‘What exactly do I do with this?’ Dad and me.
4. ‘Let me out of here!’ Me in New Zealand.
5. The family in Singapore. Mum is hiding behind me, Auntie Sally between Claire and Lesley.
6. Marine biology lesson from Dad at Coromandel, New Zealand.
7. ‘What? Another one?’ Lesley’s arrival, 1952.
8. It’s a hard life, being a butterfly.
9. ‘Peas in a pod’ – my sisters and me (far right) in the Boronia Park garden, Australia.
10. Told you I hate Christmas!
11. ‘Is this right?’ Copying the big girls – winter ballet concert, 1957.
12. ‘Wanna play chicken?’ In New Zealand.
13. Prodigal return – Boronia Park garden during my drama school years.
14. Four triangles. My favourite is Rangitoto, the volcanic island in the background. Takapuna, circa 1964.
15. At seventeen.
16. The year after being kicked out, at my school leaving dance. I hand-sewed my dress, and took my 30-year-old boyfriend.
17. NTNON publicity shot.
18. Why is Rowan holding the trophy?
19. Sassy stand-up, 1981.
20. Born to be wild… Except I wasn’t really riding that and the outfit wasn’t mine! At sixteen.
21. Trompe l’oeil flash!
22. Siren with double-jointed elbow.
23. In Bali, 1980, trying to forget the hairy Scotsman.
24. The start of my bad hair decade.
25. ‘Tiger in a tankini’ – Jamie and Scarlett in Fiji.
26. Daisy’s first birthday – with Cara in a party mask.
27. Our Fiji wedding.
28. I thought he should be shirtless . . .
29. ‘The spider and the gadfly’ – Daisy and me at Halloween, 1991.
30. ‘Hag and bones’ – with Scarlett age five.
31. ‘Puppy love’ – with Scarlett (left) and Amy, 1995.
32. ‘Fearless symmetry’ – Cara, the year she came to live with us.
33. California kids (l–r): Amy, Daisy, Scarlett, 1991.
34. ‘Snap freeze’ – Deer Valley, Utah, in 1998.
35. ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ – my forty-fifth birthday party.
36. One too many piña coladas – with Sharon in Hawaii.
37. ‘Feeling kilty’ – at Dad’s funeral.
38. A Cool Yule: Christmas 2006, at Grand Central Station, NYC. With (l–r) Amy, Daisy, Scarlett, Billy and Jamie.
39. The Graduate.
40. ‘Mortally bored’ – the new doctor’s brood after a long graduation ceremony.
41. Sunset Crew – Maui, 1996.
42. Jelly baby – Palau, 2011.
43. ‘But I didn’t get you anything!’ Papua New Guinea, 2012.
44. ‘Did someone forget to brush her teeth?’ James and me doing the Viennese Waltz during the Strictly tour.
1. The missionary and the merchant – Grandma (‘Nanna’) and Grandpa Thomas in Fiji.
2. Silly hats aboard ship – Mum and Dad, and Auntie Sally opposite, New Year’s Eve 1960.
3. ‘What exactly do I do with this?’ Dad and me.
4. ‘Let me out of here!’ Me in New Zealand.
5. The family in Singapore. Mum is hiding behind me, Auntie Sally between Claire and Lesley.
6. Marine biology lesson from Dad at Coromandel, New Zealand.
7. ‘What? Another one?’ Lesley’s arrival, 1952.
8. It’s a hard life, being a butterfly.
9. ‘Peas in a pod’ – my sisters and me (far right) in the Boronia Park garden, Australia.
10. To
ld you I hate Christmas!
11. ‘Is this right?’ Copying the big girls – winter ballet concert, 1957.
12. ‘Wanna play chicken?’ In New Zealand.
13. Prodigal return – Boronia Park garden during my drama school years.
14. Four triangles. My favourite is Rangitoto, the volcanic island in the background. Takapuna, circa 1964.
15. At seventeen.
16. The year after being kicked out, at my school leaving dance. I hand-sewed my dress, and took my 30-year-old boyfriend.