Not that strong.

First of all, I would like to thank everybody for their lovely comments on my last post. They really touched me.

I'm not good with praise, never have been. Anytime somebody pays me a compliment, I am quick to play it down. It makes me feel uncomfortable, I feel like I don't deserve it. There is always something I could have done better, I could have dealt with in a better way. And I feel like I need to explain that really, what we have been through, as tough as it was, was nothing exceptional, really. A lot of people go through it. I couldn't have done it without Mr Foodie. If anything, he deserves more praise than I do. He carried us all through it.

Some people think I am strong. I am not. All I did was let instinct take over. Fight or flight. I chose flight that day. I did fight though. I had been fighting for a long time. For as long as Marie had been alive. Against a lot of things. Fighting against my better judgement too. Things gradually heated up. Mentally, I became a shadow of myself. I was walking on egg shells. Trying to please, when the only thing that could satisfy I could not offer. I couldn't speak freely. I hid everything that was going on for years from my parents, my family, my friends. I was hiding behind a mask. When I opened up, it all came pouring out. To Mr Foodie, a virtual stranger. Such an appropriate term, virtual as it all happened through our computers. Stranger as I had never met him in person. I realized that I had to do something, that life was not worth living that way. And I took a first step, and the steps turned quickly into a run. I ran away. How is that being strong, I ask you?

Whatever happened afterwards was just consequences really, of that decision to run away. I put us in that position. I had to deal with it. We had to deal with it. I was never alone in dealing with anything. Mr Foodie was there all the way, he was thrown in at the deep end and took all my battles on (and he still does). So if anybody deserves to be called strong, he is. Not me.

I think that post also made me sound a bit paranoid. I feel the need to explain. Although I am not 100% comfortable in my area, I am not living like a recluse. I do go out, I do live a normal life. I don't look over my shoulder all the time. I just try and stay clear of some areas. I go there sometimes and nothing has ever happened. I haven't bumped into any of them. And even if I did, I'm not even sure anything would happen. I would just get a rush of adrenaline and feel unsettled probably. I probably would get a look and, if I'm really unlucky, I would get called some unsavoury name. Nothing life threatening. But moving will help avoid that stress, the probability that I will be put in an unsettling position. Sometime, distance is all that is needed.

The human mind is something quite incredible. Time helps smooth the corners of those hard memories. It puts them somewhere at the back of your brain and helps you get on with life. A while back, we were watching some program on the tv about repossessions (I know not very uplifting), and Mr Foodie turned around to me and said: 'I can't imagine what it would feel like to get your car repossessed like that.' He was serious but we looked at each other, and burst into laughter. Not that getting your car repossessed is anything to laugh at, far from it. But for the fact, that we know what it feels like because it did happen to me. We had just simply 'forgotten' about it. And I take this as a good sign. A sign that all that has happened is now in the past and some parts of it we can now even laugh about. Those tough times are part of us and of our past, they will NOT be an active part of our future!

The ghost of Christmas past

This is it. The last 15 days. Christmas is now officially around the corner. And things are finally starting to feel christmassy.

Here in the Foodie household, we are pretty much ready, the tree and other decorations are up, only a few presents to get in, a letter to send to Santa (I know it's a bit late) and of course food to get in.

This year feels different to the other years though, I am actually enjoying the lead up to the Day. I have never been a big fan of Christmas for various reasons. My birthday falls around that time of year. And it has often been forgotten about (not by my mum and dad, thank god). I have also heard countless times the famous line 'It's for both Christmas and your birthday' (people born between Christmas and the New Year will know what I am talking about). Now don't think I'm greedy. I don't insist on 2 presents or a bigger one or anything of the sort. I have often been delighted with a 'double purpose' present. However, there have been years when I have felt a bit short-changed. Like the year I received a lovely white toiletry bag about 20 cm high (sorry, I'm from the continent, I don't do inches or feet or stones) with a lovely pink silk rose the size of my little fingernail on it (and my hands are very small). It was a nice item and it has served me faithfully. However, both Christmas and my birthday? Emmm... Maybe not.

Another memorable one was my 16th birthday / Christmas, when I received, from the same person might I add, a jumper and skirt that looked like one of the school uniforms you can find anywhere in Ireland. Now, we don't have uniforms in France and I have nothing against them, I think they're actually a good thing. This particular one was a knitted navy one. Knitted jumper and knitted pleated skirt. The loveliest touch was the lace collar and my name embroidered on the chest where the school logo thingy usually goes. Let me remind you I was 16. This lovely present was however worn...just once...for a play... where I was supposed to be a 6 year old school girl...I even have the picture to prove it!

Now, that particular person tried one year later to ask me: 'What do you want for Christmas?'. 'Great, I thought to myself, she's making progress. She's finally realized that asking can be a good idea.'. Being french, I love perfumes. I wear it everyday. I have my winter favourite and my summer favourite and all the other favourites. So there I went with a list of 5 different perfumes, ranging from cheap ones to more expensive, very conscious that Christmas required a budget and that cost could be a factor.

Just so you know, in France, we start the celebrations on Christmas Eve. The tradition is to have a huge meal (anything from 5 to 20 courses lasting anything from 2 to 5 hours) after Midnight Mass. My family is not very religious so, as many families in France do, we skip Midnight Mass and just get stuck in a little earlier in the evening. We also open some of the presents on Christmas Eve.

So, come Christmas Eve, I was looking forward to opening this particular present knowing that I would not be disappointed. How wrong was I!!! I opened the present and indeed found a bottle of perfume from a reputable designer / parfumeur. Not a perfume that was on my list but I am open to trying new things so took a smell. Now, how do I put it... It was comparable to an Air Wick spray, one of the old ones, that were designed to make you forget about any other smell and just overpower your nose with chemical fumes.'Perfumes react differently on the skin', I thought to myself. So still optimistic, I sprayed some on my wrist and hoped that the reaction would produce something I could live with. Not at first, not after 15 minutes either.. Dinner started,everybody looked like they were having a good time when I realized that I had been scratching my wrist quite a bit. I took a look and saw that I finally did get a reaction from the perfume. Lots of little red itchy spots.. Not only did she pick a perfume that smelled like a chemical loo freshener but she picked the only one I am allergic to!

I went back to visit that person a few days later and asked her if there was any possibility of maybe going back to the shop and explaining the problem, in order to get a refund or another perfume. To which the reply was: ' Well your mother got some perfume too, why don't you two swap.' The poor perfume stayed on the bathroom shelf for some time. Until my mother decided that it had gone past its prime and sent it to the end of the bin.

Now, I can hear some people in the background going: 'It's the thought that counts'. Don't I know it! If that's any excuse, I was young! I have applied that philosophy ever since to any present I get (especially to the 3 embroidered napkins received last year, there are 4 of us even though one only wears bibs for now!). I also need to state in my defense that I am not the only one applying that philosophy. My brother also had to when he was given a battery charging kit when he did not have a car (he had crashed a month earlier and the car had to be written off). So do my mother and aunties who predictably get a basket of fruit (loads and loads of fruit) with a sell by date of December 28th every year. So do my father and uncles who invariably get a box of Ferrero Rocher and a plant (beats the socks if you ask me, but the living room is starting to look a bit like a jungle).

So, in short, although it's the thought that counts, please try and stick to the list. If you can't stick to the list, a voucher goes a long way, no matter what value is on it. And most of all, People, please do not forget to make that phone call on the day of the actual birthday, whether you got them a present for Christmas only, or a double purpose one, or no present at all even, and say 'Happy Birthday'.

After all, as they say, it's the thought that counts...

P.S: If you are worried that the person in question might get offended by this, don't. She does not speak a word of english that's one of the advantages of being bilingual. Also, I have had great Christmases and birthdays, especially last year, and despite the 3 napkins, when I turned 30 and got engaged.