A vow to not cook

I'm vowing tonight, not to cook my heart out any more, and put it out there for Jaan and Iain to smash at their leisure, as the whim takes them. In novels, the hero, his girl, his mother – everyone always hates the idea of any one pitying them. For a while now, I've found that odd. I'd take pity. I've long since downgraded my hopes and desires to a few pity hugs, some pity compliance, perhaps a pity compliment or so, pity could maybe cause my primary carer to make use of the folder.

I cook, it's always been a big part of what I do. It's a creative thing, restful thing, something to get excited about sometimes, a celebratory thing, sometimes a loving or a friendly thing. Something to share. Something I can give someone else who maybe can't do the same for themselves – maybe they don't have the time, money or skills. Or imagination.

I keep forgetting that Iain will not shield me when the bad things come, any more than he did that night, that day. I hardly think about the way Jaan turns away from me then too, when the bleakness is choking me, taking his lead from the rest of the room. The bad things come and I have been a fool again. Each time. Ridiculously going along with some kind of pretense that the three of us stand together. The thing to do is not go to that place in my heart where the holographic visions of trios live. We live in the same house, we share sleeping places in any given combination, and share superficial familal-closeness: walks, tv watching, singing and playing, even the occasional cuddle time. These are things to enjoy, to get pleasure and comfort from, the way Jaan and Iain do. I do too and should let the story end there.

But the bleak feelings are there too, and I am defeated and without resources, all on my own, wanted or needed by no one, with nothing that my family wants to share.

A DVD or commercially prepared sweetie or bottle of milk … that's about all I could get and give Jaan that he would respond to tonight. He doesn't want my company now, not unless it's to get one of those things. Only I know the things I want to do – enjoy the risotto I carefully made this evening, share the neatly balanced flavours with him. Things I'd like to chat to him about when he's old enough for conversation come to my mind all day. I question, now, whether he'll ever talk to me about things, considering how he responds to my cooking. Iain doesn't really talk to me unless I bully him into it either ….

I wish I knew how to take really sharp things and slay my heart out, or all my veins, like de-boning and filleting a medium sized fish. Foolishly I imagine the pain will slip out with the heart and veins. I had hoped I would not be giving my whole life away when I set off on that hard road to having a child. But it all got wrenched out, and everything I build now, or try to, might as well be made of dust. I did what I could for Jaan when he was born, but now it seems pitifully little, specially considering it was my all, and then some.

I'm a ghost, a shadow, some dust ....  I am always just building mounds of more dust, and that just irritates them both, appeals to no one, and amounts to nothing, just dust.

I have to stop trying to interest them in more of this dust, nothing I do is worth any more to them, they just love me as an aside, as a habit, as love for this other person that makes up the trio but they aren't interested in building a life with me that I can be in, they have their own paths and my contributions to family life don't stick. I am completely off-track, whereas they are both clearly navigating about the world successfully. I have no desire to hinder them, but nor can I stand the regular rebuffs. I need to stop all this cooking, there are easy ways to eat that are emotionally removed from my efforts and therefore would be less likely to trigger me, no? Cycle up or cycle down, ready brek and cheese and bread hurt no one and have no emotional connections with any of us. If my creations are not there to be a target, surely no one will hit the bullseye.

I have to accept that Iain has no interest in using the information we have learnt to help with the bleakness over the last 3 years in any meaningful manner. He's not interested in crisis plans, the folder, responding to downturns. If I sink so far, perhaps I should just stay there. Be still wherever I am. Appreciate the kindness Jaan and Iain do give me. Their generosity is certainly far from negligible.