What one word describes my personality?… Determined
I remember being quite determined very early on in life. My mother told me that at the age of three, I took my dolls and threw them into the coal bunker. In those days, people still heated their homes with an open fire and a back boiler. We had metal-framed single-glazed windows that frosted beautifully in the winter. You could breathe out your breath onto the inside pane and be as creative as you like with your fingertips. The house always smelled a little musty from the dampness, the ashes, and the mould that grew in the corners of the ceiling. The telephone had a rotary dial with holes numbered 0-9. To make a call, you placed a finger into the hole for the desired number. Then you turned the dial clockwise until it stopped. When you released the dial, it would spin back to its original position, ready to select another number. Of course, telephone number sequences were much shorter, so there was no danger of digit fatigue. When the phone rang, it created drama and excitement in the house as you never knew who was calling. There were no cold callers back then, so the caller would always be a friend or relative. We would all chime in with “Who is it ? who is it?” like parrots repeating their newest phrase, determined to know who was calling. And of course, if the phone ever rang during meal times or after 9 pm, it was ignored. Father believed it was an imposition to be called at any inconvenient time. Father always made up the fire, a very male domain, and mother always cleaned out the ashes in the morning. The house was invariably freezing on winter mornings. When you first awoke, your breath was visible and white like the smoke from the chimney. You would take a breath and puff it gently onto the glass. Writing in the condensation on the pane in winter provided a welcome distraction. You had to be quick about it. The glass would freeze and grow delicate lace frosty patterns. These patterns were always quite marvelous.
It was one cold winter morning. After dumping my dolls into the coal bunker, I announced that I was too old to play with dolls. I was pretty determined that I was now all grown up and no longer needed to pretend play.
I determined that right there, and then I would invest my time into drawing.
My determination was always the mainstay of my character. Having two brothers, one older and one younger. I was determined to kill (obviously not actually kill) my little brother every day and determined not to be like my older brother, who was an arrogant little shit. I spent much of my time, when not helping with chores or at school, reading novels and drawing life-like sketches in pencil. Growing up with parents at war created a determination never to be like them, and after their divorce at age 12, I determined I was too old to go to school.
By age 14, I was determined on most days to smoke myself to death and drink myself into a stupor. My parents, determined to get on with their own new lives, did not notice nor care.
By age 16, I was determined to leave home and fend for myself, working full time as an office person with varied tasks, not least being available to have my bottom patted at regular intervals during the working day…such was the 80’s.
By 23, I was determined to give up smoking, which I did and create a new life self-employed and away from the chauvinistic male-dominated den of iniquity, which was the business world. I took 50 more years to give up drinking despite being determined on many occasions to do so, especially on the mornings of the night before.
Having a determined character has made it easy for me to learn many skills that required repetitive learning. Practicing until I got it was always a pleasure and a source of dopamine. As such, I became accomplished at pottery, playing instruments, languages, and all forms of crafts, from spinning to knitting, glass fusing to blowing, and whatever I turn my hand to do because I am determined to learn.
Unfortunately, my determination has not served me well in relationships. While feeling quite determined initially to make my marriages work, unlike my belligerent parents, I am, in fact, 4 times divorced. Yes, boohoo. Now, in recovery from a significant mental breakdown, I am determined to be well. Writing has helped me immensely to process my trauma, and I am now quite keenly determined to write every day to develop a level of proficiency that may serve me in my old age.
Thank you for reading I hope determination in life also serves you well.
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Living on the Edge 