East is East
A single union jack flies outside my window. It flies from the home of a respectable elderly man who washes his car weekly and takes great pride in his garden. The flag is new each year. It buys it, i'm sure, every July. I think he lives alone, his wife, if he had one has either passed on or gone - either way, he is alone, although he gets visitors quite often. I remember when we first moved in here how odd it was to think that we were now in a neighbourhood that flew the British flag. I didn't mind so much - but i could tell it annoyed the hell out of Peter. I can't express my nationality here, he said. See if i flew the triclour, see if we get burnt out. It would probably be the same for this man here in Creggan too. It was a no win situation really. Two wrongs do not make a right, so i didn't say very much to his concerns. There was no point saying that there were parts of NI which were no go zones for this man too. And therefore he'd not go there. He'd choose not to. Which was probably Peter's point about living in East Belfast. Given the chance, he'd not choose it either.
The irony is, of course, we moved here because of him. His job in Stormont, which he's no longer at of course, made us move here. And i didn't want to move to Belfast, but anyway, he no longer works in Stormont. Which means that we could have moved out - to West Belfast, as Peter would have preferred. But i was tired of moving - there was one stage we nearly moved to Dublin and then the day after we broke up two years ago, he wanted us to move to Castlewellan. And Oisin now goes to Holywood for school, so there was even greater reason not to move. I suppose this is what Peter means by it was always my way. He'd have prefered to put Oisin in a Gealic speaking school and lived off the Falls Road. Or back in Derry. I lumped him in Steiner and insisted we continue living in East Belfast, because it's handy for my work too. Our lives are here now, i said. Not so, said Peter, i feel like a stranger here. You never made the effort, i'd retort. To which he'd get very annoyed. It's just the same as you moving to Ireland, us moving to Belfast. It is as foreign and strange to me, the move. The cultural shock is as great. Excuse me if i didn't really see the close parallels.
Sigh. We should never have married really. I don't know what possessed us. But here we are - ten years on and with two beautiful children, we are trying to work it out. Trying to make the arrangements work for the kids - and us. It's clear that we're not getting back, much as i'd like us to. Peter feels that he has compromised too much in the relationship. It's really hard for me to understand this, since i feel as if i gave it my all. Especially when it came to choosing between family and work - it is such a cliche. I chose family. And why shouldn't i? Being that much closer to bringing life into the world, naturally i have that much more of a vested interest.
Tne years on and here i am, blogging about my life in Northern Ireland, did i ever think this? Northern Ireland. This week is really hectic, with packing and getting ready for the great move. I have been told that i have done exactly as i have wanted. Nothing could be further from the truth. Tell me, how am i supposed to cope with two young children on my own, in a foreign country, with no family, no income for the next six months, since i was told i had chosen to go on maternity leave, and the end of a relationship which i had basically chucked everything at, especially the least year. I told myself, it didn't matter what i felt, let the relationship work. It was a stupid idea, but at least i tried it - and you what ladies, it doesn't work. It never works, but you've gotta try everything really, haven't you?
I just need to recuperate. I know it doesn't look like it, but i am running very low on energy and the cold and cough over the weekend testify to that. There i was my eyes streaming, my nose bunged up, my head banging away, unable to take Sudafed or decongestants because i was breastfeeding, and unable to ask anyone else to help me. I lay in bed, being as brave as i could to my mother who calls four times a day to ensure i haven't thrown myself off the Albert Bridge. Madame President to be has said, it takes a village - and here i was trying my best on my own to be the whole world to my two sons, one of which is only 6 months old. It breaks my heart. I need a rest.
I'm off to clean downstairs after the winds of a sleepover have gone through it. And then i'm off to bed myself. It'll be another busy day tomorrow.
