The River in My Heart

Most of my adult life, I have hated, loathed, despised, anyone knowing my business.

Which is why I set up this blog. (What, did you think my real name was Topcat?) Actually, the reason I named myself Topcat is .... drumroll .... I found a cool pic of Topcat on the net.

(No wonder my grandmother always called me a deep well.)

Ummmm, here's the deal .... I have a new blog. In my real name. See, Mr TCs cancer made me turn everything upside down on the bed and shake the shit out of my whole life. We thought he might not make it. What does it all mean. Who am I. I am in pain right now. Answer? To write it.

And I wrote it, and you read it.

Certain Shining Lights of Love have been placed upon me in my life. The joy when my beautiful Tiger was born. Then Miraculous Monkey arriving.

And ...

You. Lifting me up, from the minefield of 2008.

Thank God I had to do IVF to get pregnant, otherwise I never would have started this Happy-Go-Lucky blog, that turned into my main lifeline. Reading your comments this year, I got filled up with your Love and Hope. I'm so grateful.

Even if your name is Mauve and you live in Greenland (next to Flicka!) and you landed here by googling "manhands farting" and you've only ever read and not commented one word. And you sit by the fire each night and tsk tsk that that Terrible Topcat is on the Warpath AGAIN. The way I see blogs working ... the blogger gets stuff out, the reader comes and reads, offers love or support or a silent prayer or a silent fart .... the act of reading someones words and just wishing them well, somehow makes a magic difference.

This year, I wrote. In my worst, dirtiest, most awful days of my twenties, I would hold on to this slim, tiny morsel of an idea that maybe, just maybe, I would be ok and get through and stay alive and end up writing.

I did, and I have, and I'm crying because it's real. Recovering from "stuff" is real and I will never stop being amazed by that. Life is here right now - bigger and better and more amazing than I could ever have dreamed, shitty fucked up as it is sometimes, I still feel amazed and grateful at it.

A few months ago, I ended up writing the text for a childrens book, that looks like it will get published sometime in the new year. When I think of writing, it feels like there is a river in my heart. I need to grab this feeling and jump on .... come out of the blogging closet. I don't know why I just do. It seems important.

The truth, did indeed, set me free.

Of course, at my new digs I can't write as angrily and rudely as I have done here. However, I think I'll just be more imaginative and creative about my political incorrectness.

Indisputable Topcat? She is me, and I am her. She will live in my heart forever, for she has been the doorway to get to where I am going. And I don't even know where that is!

Now, I dont like change ... when I was a kid, my auntie had her kitchen remodelled, after 15 years of it being the same. I cried myself to sleep that night, praying for her old kitchen to be back there in the morning when I woke up. It wasn't. God I was sad. God I was weird.

But, there is a LOT of despair written here .. and maybe I just needed a fresh start.

I will update two, for a little while, then gradually just write in the other one. I would love it if you came to visit. (Please! I have no comments yet and it's been awfully lonely over there!)

I told Mr TC what I was doing, and I have his full support .. and permission, to write about him. I asked stepson if he minded me writing about him, his exact words were ... "Sure! I don't give a fuck!"

In fact, I'm heading over there right now.

Care to join me?

(Don't forget to email me, especially if you live in Constantinople or Timbuktu)

xoxoxoxoxoxo