I was not raised with confidence, but with fear. Of course, today I can totally understand it. My dear mother was married when she was nothing but an innocent teenager to a man 25 years older. I will never know, but I do believe there was some financial compensation in it for her very poor parents. Not a question of hard cash changing hands, but probably an advantage in her family’s quest to acquire their own piece of land.
My father died when I was a preschooler and my only recollection of him is of an old and very sick man. But he must have been totally besotted by this girl to leave his fiancée of several years and marry my mother. For those days it was certainly a very unacceptable thing in their society. Certainly he was – for those days – a good husband to my mother. They raised a large family and when he died, she was left with enough to go on.
And go on, she did. Of course, today I can understand how difficult it must have been for her. She did not have any experience in managing finances, she could not drive a car, she never had to make important financial decisions before. No surprise that she had a tough time and thoroughly imprinted her fear and uncertainties on her youngest, being a lonely little girl at that stage.
No, I do not hold it against her. But I still carry the burden and it is a struggle to learn to live with confidence rather than fear. It also doesn’t help that I started rather late in life to consciously fight against this heritage.
So I am constantly trying to accept the challenges that come to me, which certainly is a good thing. But along the way I have realized that I sometimes expect too much of myself. Someone once said that it is not imperative that I accept EVERY challenge coming my way, that I certainly have the right to let some of them go by.
In this light I have decided to let go of the Norway (and Sweden) shows and to be content with Sunderland and Manchester. Very mature, I thought. Seen against practical issues, certainly the right thing to do.
But I did not realize how difficult it would be to accept that I could not be one of the about 200 000 people who bought tickets in those few hours after the sales started, while it would have been a perfect opportunity to visit my son in Norway and attend those shows. It comes as a surprise that I find I am grieving as if I have suffered a serious loss. As with the grief for a loved one who has passed away, it does not really help to try to be thankful for what you still have. These feelings must just take their time and work themselves out. And that it will take time. And that I cannot talk to anybody around me about it. They will most certainly not understand.
That’s why I love blogging so much. And why I love the wonderful online Springsteen community so much.