Moving on….
It has taken me a long time to arrive at this point. I used to be a prolific writer but for me to write there has to be a degree of honesty and vulnerability. I have never been one to hide from the truth. Sure we all like to share our wins and let the outside world think everything is rosy but life's pathways teach us many lessons and the closest we get to understanding who we are and what we need often comes in our darkest moments. Don’t get me wrong I consider myself very lucky and I would not change anything because I am Dar of a thousand pathways that always lead back to me.
Spain was for me a place to run. A dream of sorts trying to escape normality and at the time an unfulfilled life although most people would say my life had been very full.
In the beginning it was great and to those looking in probably seemed idyllic. Truth is it was probably the loneliest I have ever been. Still within those empty spaces I got to learn a little bit more about myself and pursue some of the things I had been afraid to try. I would sing, paint and entertain. I have no regrets, everything happens in its way and I am eternally grateful for every moment.
People that know me will know I am afraid of heights. The first time driving up the twisty mountain road towards a very high village in the Andalusian mountains was for me the epitome of all my fears. Giving over control to someone else driving was a red flag. Now I can look back and the absurdity of my actions makes me laugh but truly I screamed let me out all the way. With an ample collection of expletives . The driver didn’t know whether to laugh or drop me off at the next bend. Still we made it up to a beautiful white washed village that would be our home for a little while.
Spain for me was an exciting adventure, a different life for just a little while. I will always be captivated by the memory of Mount Maroma and the beautiful vista of bougainvillaea against the backdrop of the wild Andalusian hills, the heat in the evening and the waft of Jasmine and the fragrance of lime bloosom pleasantly circulating with the warm breeze. It was also a test for a relationship that was quite new. Leaving England meant leaving family and although we could talk on the phone and facetime it wasn’t the same and it put extra strain on the relationship. A few months later my Mum was diagnosed with cancer and I returned home to help with her appointments, which was also very difficult. When I did return I felt that life had moved on without me and my partner had got to know the village and I came back more of a stranger than when I left. Still I filled my day with painting or renovating, doing mosaics and singing which I really enjoyed for a while. What can I say no one person is to blame for a relationship breakdown and I take my share of responsibility. I guess I was more closed off and I walked away.
I didn't want to return home when everyone had congratulated me for making the move to Spain, so instead I found a rental in a village a few mountain peaks away. It was a village of a thousand steps even higher with a sharp steep left hand turn to drop down to small pueblo. It consisted of a few shops, a couple of bars and villagers who were generally in bed by 8pm because they had been at the local bar. I would go home and sit in a little house full of odd noises it was quite a dark little place, not very inviting but I had found it quickly. I knew nobody in the village and truly I still knew nobody when I left. I rented a villa with a pool with absolutely stunning views of Mount Maroma. It was beautiful and it felt like home for a little while. I got to experiment with art and sing often by myself with a big old fire. Still, it was scary sometimes. I remember in the first weeks of moving in. I heard a cat wailing. It sounded like someone was being badly hurt and I felt very vulnerable. It was so open to the wilderness. It was at this time I started my Prettykarma shop with a view to selling handmade artisan products but I was nearly out of money and I had to get it up and running quickly. Nobody knew my situation. I would venture down to the village bar sometimes to meet up with some local expats. It seemed friendly but in my heart it felt like nobody cared enough to penetrate the surface or to even get to know who I was. Still I look back with fond memories and realise now that perhaps I hadn't let the drawbridge down to let anyone come remotely near the main walls. Prettykarma would have been a beautiful Artisan store had I had more time, but I had run out of money. Just enough left to take my most prized possessions home. So I returned to the Uk. With just a few belongings, some clothes and an empty bank balance. To be honest all the pathways stopped and I felt like the walls had come crashing in. The facades we show the world. I am not going to rake up old hurts because even in writing this piece. I realise everything was just as it was meant to be and even those broken connections now can bring a smile to my heart because I have learnt a lot.
To be continued
I believe in happy endings so I am going to write my own.
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