I continue in my naivety. I have continued to hold some belief in people that deserve none. One people in particular. So ashamed of my contribution to the mess our 15 years had dissolved into I felt one people in particular deserved the chance to deliver his retribution, had somehow earned the right to set his demons on me and take his moment of glory as they shredded my heart. Passive and understanding, I so didn't want to cry out at the pain, knowing that he needed to do it to set himself free. No-one has heard my cries. Those cries have been silent and accepting. Until now.
Because I can't take anymore. Because my spirit is now crying out its refusal to be broken by such relentless devils as have driven him to such dark places, to such horrible depths. My strength to accept his pain is indefatigable and his demons will soon tire of me and return unsated to him. They will continue to shred a heart - but not mine. Mine is no longer his.
My heart is the most precious thing I have in my life and though bruised and bleeding it still beats. And it will heal because I will not have it otherwise. I will not let anyone destroy such a glorious gift as that which is the very life of me. These may seem to you like the words of a dreamer, a romantic, maybe even someone slightly unhinged or out of touch with reality. But they are the words of my reality and I am entitled to have them.
The life to me that is important is not the stuff of our external world but the sparkling, enigmatic, so very difficult to catch hold of but so delightful to connect with internal world. That which makes us shudder at the vastness of the universe, tremble in the face of our mortality and laughs as it dares us to to try and live without it.
And some people do dare. One people in particular dares because who dares wins. Only for me a Pyrrhic victory is one I can live without.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Thursday 29 July 2010
Saturday 24 July 2010
Nipping the Wuther
OK. It's time to come clean. Having contemplated the issue for a few days now I have decided to spill the beans. Or rather, New Male Friend has decided I should spill them to prevent my moral dilemma developing into a full blown wuther. New Male Friend seems to have made a hobby out of stopping wuthers in their tracks and whilst I will put up a damn good defence for wuthers of a windswept moor standard he generally makes a good call by nipping them in the bud (or whatever you have to nip in a wuther to stop it).
It went a bit like this
Me: (back of right palm resting weakly on brow a la wuther) Should I spill all my beans in my blog? Or not? What if ... this. What if ... that. What if ... *sigh* ... the other. What if. What if. And ... oh *small whimper* I couldn't bear it if .... Dare I? Should I? (right palm falls from brow and head drops exhausted onto appropriately positioned pillow.)
New Male Friend: Yes.
That was that. The cause of such majestic wuthering is that I have been asked out on a date. And. I. Said. Yes. OMG. A frickin' date. With a man. However. That little yes, a teensy, weensy three lettered unfurling of damaged wings, made me feel that somehow I was betraying Project: Life Changing. That little yes had an air of fraternising with the enemy. Who needs a man? Who wants one? Surely Project: Life Changing is about us women sticking together and not letting those life support machines for penises (or is it penii?) fuck up our lives anymore...
New Male Friend: (Quietly) Ahem.
Ahem? Ah. Because it's not just men that fuck up women's lives and break hearts. Women fuck up and break hearts too. Project: Life Changing is helping me un-fuck my life after the mixed up sadness, guilt, bitterness, anger and self-loathing that ensued following Him Formerly's BUA. It is about recognising my mistakes and coming to terms with my fallibility. About accepting Him Formerly's mistakes and coming to terms with his fallibility. It is about thinking and laughing and crying and doing and teasing and joking. And realising that the world doesn't come to an end when a relationship does.
Project: Life Changing is not about denial. Not about denying myself life. Not about denying myself laughter. And, for a romantic, wuthering soul such as mine, it is certainly not about denying myself the right to love or be loved.
New Male Friend says Ahem to that.
Yours in hope & fear, AJ x
It went a bit like this
Me: (back of right palm resting weakly on brow a la wuther) Should I spill all my beans in my blog? Or not? What if ... this. What if ... that. What if ... *sigh* ... the other. What if. What if. And ... oh *small whimper* I couldn't bear it if .... Dare I? Should I? (right palm falls from brow and head drops exhausted onto appropriately positioned pillow.)
New Male Friend: Yes.
That was that. The cause of such majestic wuthering is that I have been asked out on a date. And. I. Said. Yes. OMG. A frickin' date. With a man. However. That little yes, a teensy, weensy three lettered unfurling of damaged wings, made me feel that somehow I was betraying Project: Life Changing. That little yes had an air of fraternising with the enemy. Who needs a man? Who wants one? Surely Project: Life Changing is about us women sticking together and not letting those life support machines for penises (or is it penii?) fuck up our lives anymore...
New Male Friend: (Quietly) Ahem.
Ahem? Ah. Because it's not just men that fuck up women's lives and break hearts. Women fuck up and break hearts too. Project: Life Changing is helping me un-fuck my life after the mixed up sadness, guilt, bitterness, anger and self-loathing that ensued following Him Formerly's BUA. It is about recognising my mistakes and coming to terms with my fallibility. About accepting Him Formerly's mistakes and coming to terms with his fallibility. It is about thinking and laughing and crying and doing and teasing and joking. And realising that the world doesn't come to an end when a relationship does.
Project: Life Changing is not about denial. Not about denying myself life. Not about denying myself laughter. And, for a romantic, wuthering soul such as mine, it is certainly not about denying myself the right to love or be loved.
New Male Friend says Ahem to that.
Yours in hope & fear, AJ x
Friday 23 July 2010
Detail
I do believe I have received a complaint. I have been receiving complainettes, (i.e. little ones) but today my Facebook inbox definitely had a fully grown one stating last blog was high on philosophy and low on detail. From Big Cuz. Which makes it quite a serious complaint in my book.
It undoubtedly stems from the fact I had some blog free days. Even though the point of this exercise was to write daily. Because I haven't it is tempting to berate myself for being lazy/shallow/unfocused (most likely lazy) and give myself a damned good talking to, replete with personal insults and abuse.
However tempting it might be though, 'been there, done that', springs to mind. And the only thing that proved good for was nothing very much at all. The bottom line is that there is only so much of that kind of talking to I am prepared to accept. I've had my fill.
Project:Life Changing initially felt like the start of something that would culminate in change. It hadn't occurred to me there would be no culmination, no final reveal, no denouement. It never occurred to me that it was from the moment of inception, from the moment I posted those first words, that life would begin to change.
From that singular moment when I made up my mind to blog through the process and shed my sickness in words, my life took a new direction. Change began at the beginning and isn't waiting for the end. It has been changing ever since and at a rate more astonishing than I could have anticipated. A rate more swift that no amount of 'told you so's' could have predicted. A rate at which has demanded some contemplation.
So my silence of late is nothing to be ashamed of. It isn't a failing. It is the time I have needed to recover my senses and emerge from the strangeness of this changing life. I was not being lazy. I was just cautiously unfurling my wings and stretching out in the sun, timidly facing the world and its wonders with a quiet "Hello, I'm back".
Only this time I might just be back with a vengeance. And a 'phone call to Big Cuz with the details.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
It undoubtedly stems from the fact I had some blog free days. Even though the point of this exercise was to write daily. Because I haven't it is tempting to berate myself for being lazy/shallow/unfocused (most likely lazy) and give myself a damned good talking to, replete with personal insults and abuse.
However tempting it might be though, 'been there, done that', springs to mind. And the only thing that proved good for was nothing very much at all. The bottom line is that there is only so much of that kind of talking to I am prepared to accept. I've had my fill.
Project:Life Changing initially felt like the start of something that would culminate in change. It hadn't occurred to me there would be no culmination, no final reveal, no denouement. It never occurred to me that it was from the moment of inception, from the moment I posted those first words, that life would begin to change.
From that singular moment when I made up my mind to blog through the process and shed my sickness in words, my life took a new direction. Change began at the beginning and isn't waiting for the end. It has been changing ever since and at a rate more astonishing than I could have anticipated. A rate more swift that no amount of 'told you so's' could have predicted. A rate at which has demanded some contemplation.
So my silence of late is nothing to be ashamed of. It isn't a failing. It is the time I have needed to recover my senses and emerge from the strangeness of this changing life. I was not being lazy. I was just cautiously unfurling my wings and stretching out in the sun, timidly facing the world and its wonders with a quiet "Hello, I'm back".
Only this time I might just be back with a vengeance. And a 'phone call to Big Cuz with the details.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Thursday 22 July 2010
McLife
Whoever was responsible for wiring up the human brain needs a bloody good talking to. What use is it to anyone to some rather useful grey matter that can offer up good advice to the very same grey matter that refuses to accept it. Like, I knew I shouldn't have worn my white shoes to walk the BBGs, but I did anyway.
My brain is full of good advice that has been under-used, overlooked or sidelined, all rattling around in the hefty Told You So box that squabbles over the seating arrangements with Hindsight. Hindsight being another wonderful thing that is of no practical use to anyone.
What I actually need is some Foresight. The foresight to see that the choices I make are not going to hurt me or anyone else, the foresight to see that decisions I make are the right ones not the wrong ones, and the foresight to see what's coming as a result of my actions. So at the first opportunity I am heading off to McLife to order Big Foresight (easy on the ketchup) with a side of Always Knowing What to Do for the Best.
Am I heckers like.
Imagine really knowing what the future holds. Really knowing. It would be a life with no anticipation, no fear, no curiosity, no dreams, no worry, no surprises. There would be no nerves and no butterflies. No taking chances. There would be no hope.
Having recently experienced the nearest I ever want to get to complete hopelessness I know it is something not to be desired. Because even in the darkest hours of recent months, the white butterfly has flickered into view. Momentarily. Briefly. But still there. Just enough to help me understand that this is just another of life's lessons, designed to nourish my senses, feed my soul and draw me closer to a state of human grace.
A state where I can make decisions and accept my own choices, for better or for worse. A state where I know that I may not always do what is for the best but I know I do it with the best of intentions. In fact, a state so familiar to us all that it is only when it momentarily seems to falter that we become more acutely aware of it.
Life is about learning. Life is about human grace. Life is about hope. McLife can shuff off.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
My brain is full of good advice that has been under-used, overlooked or sidelined, all rattling around in the hefty Told You So box that squabbles over the seating arrangements with Hindsight. Hindsight being another wonderful thing that is of no practical use to anyone.
What I actually need is some Foresight. The foresight to see that the choices I make are not going to hurt me or anyone else, the foresight to see that decisions I make are the right ones not the wrong ones, and the foresight to see what's coming as a result of my actions. So at the first opportunity I am heading off to McLife to order Big Foresight (easy on the ketchup) with a side of Always Knowing What to Do for the Best.
Am I heckers like.
Imagine really knowing what the future holds. Really knowing. It would be a life with no anticipation, no fear, no curiosity, no dreams, no worry, no surprises. There would be no nerves and no butterflies. No taking chances. There would be no hope.
Having recently experienced the nearest I ever want to get to complete hopelessness I know it is something not to be desired. Because even in the darkest hours of recent months, the white butterfly has flickered into view. Momentarily. Briefly. But still there. Just enough to help me understand that this is just another of life's lessons, designed to nourish my senses, feed my soul and draw me closer to a state of human grace.
A state where I can make decisions and accept my own choices, for better or for worse. A state where I know that I may not always do what is for the best but I know I do it with the best of intentions. In fact, a state so familiar to us all that it is only when it momentarily seems to falter that we become more acutely aware of it.
Life is about learning. Life is about human grace. Life is about hope. McLife can shuff off.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Thursday 15 July 2010
Scales
I don't know what's happened to me but my maudlin capacity is not up to par. Under instruction from knowledgeable quarters I am 'spring cleaning' - literally. I have decided that seeing as Him Formerly has moved out then I don't have to put up with Him Formerly's stuff staring at me everyday. In its irritatingly smug way.
So, tonight, IKEA bags at the ready, I prepared to go through various shelves and sort the wheat from the chaff so to speak. Tissues were also at the ready as I was fully prepared for some nostalgic sentimental moments as I sifted through what was once a joint collection of CDs, DVDs and books.
IKEA bags played their role perfectly. I now have two large square blue bags sitting in the corner of the study awaiting their fate. Contents not looking so smug now. Tissues however remain untouched. Dolefully sitting on the desk, looking at me in disbelief that they are surplus to requirements. And I am looking right back at them thinking the same.
So I sat down and tried to maudle a bit. On purpose. Nothing. Not a hint of a maudle could be squeezed out and so I started playing around with windows media player, thinking a few sounds might get me more in the mood. They did. In the mood for dancing, so I laid down a few Northern Soul moves for 20 minutes or so and then returned to the desk. And the disconsolate tissues.
The lack of tears concerned me for a time. After all, in past weeks I have managed to shed them by the gallon per hour. But then it dawned on me. The scales have fallen from my eyes so they don't sting anymore.
I've put the tissues in the bin.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
So, tonight, IKEA bags at the ready, I prepared to go through various shelves and sort the wheat from the chaff so to speak. Tissues were also at the ready as I was fully prepared for some nostalgic sentimental moments as I sifted through what was once a joint collection of CDs, DVDs and books.
IKEA bags played their role perfectly. I now have two large square blue bags sitting in the corner of the study awaiting their fate. Contents not looking so smug now. Tissues however remain untouched. Dolefully sitting on the desk, looking at me in disbelief that they are surplus to requirements. And I am looking right back at them thinking the same.
So I sat down and tried to maudle a bit. On purpose. Nothing. Not a hint of a maudle could be squeezed out and so I started playing around with windows media player, thinking a few sounds might get me more in the mood. They did. In the mood for dancing, so I laid down a few Northern Soul moves for 20 minutes or so and then returned to the desk. And the disconsolate tissues.
The lack of tears concerned me for a time. After all, in past weeks I have managed to shed them by the gallon per hour. But then it dawned on me. The scales have fallen from my eyes so they don't sting anymore.
I've put the tissues in the bin.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Wednesday 14 July 2010
Learning Curve
Someone I was trying to get hold of - just to know all was ok and that I didn't need to worry about them, me, or anything else come to that - has been 'un' something to respond. 'Un' willing or 'un' able. And from the consternation and fretfulness the lack of communication has created I have embarked on a learning curve.
First thing I have learned is that I too need to respond if able, even if not really willing. I have been guilty of not responding when perfectly able. I have just been unwilling to engage. H will know what I mean as for many years she has persevered with her care and diligently stayed in touch while I have been hiding out in a cave with Him Formerly, ignoring just about everything and everyone else. I couldn't bring myself to respond regularly in case I got asked to go out and do something (see Talking Shop for expansion on that theme). Or in case I got asked if I was ok, which would make me think about things and perhaps face up to the fact I wasn't. Had I been able to talk and therefore face them sooner, perhaps I wouldn't be needing this blog right now.
The second thing I have learned is all the more painful to acknowledge - that my sense of self is so shattered that my reasoning abilities regularly go AWOL. Unable for example doesn't mean to me that they are busy, that their phone battery is dead, that they are in a meeting or that they have dropped their phone in a cup of tea (chat with Brother-in-Law for expansion on that theme). In my current world it is never any of those ordinary things that people experience every day which make them miss communications. Dear me no. No response in my world means an unable indicative of the stuff of nightmares and horror movies. Before you know it my whole future has been mapped out and turned over to a perpetual mourning and regret that if only I had called sooner things might have been ok.
Or perhaps they are unwilling. Because they hate me. Because they want to make me as miserable as possible. Because I have done something terribly wrong and they will never forgive me. Because they aren't in fact the person I thought they were, their soul has been invaded by an alien life form that has extracted their compassion and replaced it with a focused desire to drive me insane. Couldn't be they are unwilling because they just don't feel like communicating, because perhaps things are difficult and painful for them? That their unwilling is just a different kind of unable.
I have been in a place where everything is my fault, like some strange omnipotent being I am the cause of everything. What vanity to believe that if I was nicer/funnier/prettier/kinder/wittier/cleverer then their phone would run on tea and without battery and the alien life forms wouldn't stand a chance. At this point, thankfully, my reasoning abilities have returned. So, if you are able do so, do. If you are unable, try. And if that doesn't work just hope the one you can't communicate with is a lot more like H and a lot less like me. As I was. I am moving up the learning curve.
Oddly enough, I suspect I am not alone.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
First thing I have learned is that I too need to respond if able, even if not really willing. I have been guilty of not responding when perfectly able. I have just been unwilling to engage. H will know what I mean as for many years she has persevered with her care and diligently stayed in touch while I have been hiding out in a cave with Him Formerly, ignoring just about everything and everyone else. I couldn't bring myself to respond regularly in case I got asked to go out and do something (see Talking Shop for expansion on that theme). Or in case I got asked if I was ok, which would make me think about things and perhaps face up to the fact I wasn't. Had I been able to talk and therefore face them sooner, perhaps I wouldn't be needing this blog right now.
The second thing I have learned is all the more painful to acknowledge - that my sense of self is so shattered that my reasoning abilities regularly go AWOL. Unable for example doesn't mean to me that they are busy, that their phone battery is dead, that they are in a meeting or that they have dropped their phone in a cup of tea (chat with Brother-in-Law for expansion on that theme). In my current world it is never any of those ordinary things that people experience every day which make them miss communications. Dear me no. No response in my world means an unable indicative of the stuff of nightmares and horror movies. Before you know it my whole future has been mapped out and turned over to a perpetual mourning and regret that if only I had called sooner things might have been ok.
Or perhaps they are unwilling. Because they hate me. Because they want to make me as miserable as possible. Because I have done something terribly wrong and they will never forgive me. Because they aren't in fact the person I thought they were, their soul has been invaded by an alien life form that has extracted their compassion and replaced it with a focused desire to drive me insane. Couldn't be they are unwilling because they just don't feel like communicating, because perhaps things are difficult and painful for them? That their unwilling is just a different kind of unable.
I have been in a place where everything is my fault, like some strange omnipotent being I am the cause of everything. What vanity to believe that if I was nicer/funnier/prettier/kinder/wittier/cleverer then their phone would run on tea and without battery and the alien life forms wouldn't stand a chance. At this point, thankfully, my reasoning abilities have returned. So, if you are able do so, do. If you are unable, try. And if that doesn't work just hope the one you can't communicate with is a lot more like H and a lot less like me. As I was. I am moving up the learning curve.
Oddly enough, I suspect I am not alone.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Tougher Than a Turnip - Part Two
Evidently I am not tougher than a turnip. Because as I am writing the screen is a little blurred by my tears following what feels like just about disastrous everything. So much for the last Progress Report.
Disastrous driving lesson during which Nice Man ran out of niceness and got cross with me. Which made me cry. Like a girl and not under my own instruction. The tears just trickled out of their own accord and, on reaching flood proportions, Nice Man handed me a tissue and offered to drive me home.
To my home where three beautiful BBGs were waiting to greet me and yet whose bounce and joy did nothing to stem the flow of tears. Because I have let them down too and today they missed out their morning walk. Because I was too tired to get up. Because despite going to sleep at 11:45 pm last night I was awake again at 1:45 am and unable to sleep again until 5 am. Because yesterday I spoke with Him Formerly. And because yesterday started off so promisingly and then just kind of drifted into questions I shouldn't be asking myself. Because I don't have any answers and now is not the time.
I tried to be calm with Him Formerly as I wanted some tech support (he is good with technology because computers don't have emotions). However, despite duck taping my temper I still couldn't resist letting him know that his rather inept IT colleagues clearly don't know how facebook works. If you post things on your wall they appear on friends feeds.
Now there are still a few children he works with who hadn't got round to deleting me as a friend. (After all, they couldn't possibly be my friend after what I have done to him could they???) And one 'friend' posted some charming pictures of the World Cup final party they attended, complete with (and I swear it was a soft focus, vaseline smeared over the lens sort of shot ) of Him Formerly cuddling up with Her on the sofa.
Just what I needed to see. Now don't get me wrong. Tears or no tears I am no longer overly bothered about him being with her per se; Her obviously worked hard to get him and Him Formerly clearly worked hard to enable her, perhaps they are good for each other. It is just the sickening feeling of seeing how easily Her has been accepted and allowed to slot so neatly into the space beside him as if I never existed.
The people who once knew us as a couple are just all round smiles and laughter. No qualms, no consciences pricked and no knowledge of what Him Formerly has said or done to me. Not one of those people who knew us both have sent me a kind word of sympathy. Neither those now just his friends, nor his family of which I was a part of for 15 years. I am now deleted. Just. Like. That.
And if that isn't enough, Him Formerly told me he wanted to come and collect a few things. Namely shoe brushes (fancy moving in with a woman who doesn't have shoe brushes. Maybe she has webbed feet and doesn't need them.) and a cheese slice. A frickin' cheese slice I ask you. I couldn't help but laugh and tell him to sod off and go and buy a new one at Tesco (about £1.50 I believe).
"But I was attached to the cheese slice." He said. "Funny that," I countered. "I was attached to lots of things from the past 15 years but Hey Ho. Shit happens." What a pity for Him Formerly (and if you ask me a worrying prospect for Her) - that he didn't manage to get attached to something a little more substantial.
So no. I am, thankfully, not tougher than a turnip. I am methinks more of a dragon fruit. Strange, colourful and with some almost dangerous looking features on the outside but yielding, soft and sweet and on the inside. Only it might take a little more than a cheese slice to find it.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Disastrous driving lesson during which Nice Man ran out of niceness and got cross with me. Which made me cry. Like a girl and not under my own instruction. The tears just trickled out of their own accord and, on reaching flood proportions, Nice Man handed me a tissue and offered to drive me home.
To my home where three beautiful BBGs were waiting to greet me and yet whose bounce and joy did nothing to stem the flow of tears. Because I have let them down too and today they missed out their morning walk. Because I was too tired to get up. Because despite going to sleep at 11:45 pm last night I was awake again at 1:45 am and unable to sleep again until 5 am. Because yesterday I spoke with Him Formerly. And because yesterday started off so promisingly and then just kind of drifted into questions I shouldn't be asking myself. Because I don't have any answers and now is not the time.
I tried to be calm with Him Formerly as I wanted some tech support (he is good with technology because computers don't have emotions). However, despite duck taping my temper I still couldn't resist letting him know that his rather inept IT colleagues clearly don't know how facebook works. If you post things on your wall they appear on friends feeds.
Now there are still a few children he works with who hadn't got round to deleting me as a friend. (After all, they couldn't possibly be my friend after what I have done to him could they???) And one 'friend' posted some charming pictures of the World Cup final party they attended, complete with (and I swear it was a soft focus, vaseline smeared over the lens sort of shot ) of Him Formerly cuddling up with Her on the sofa.
Just what I needed to see. Now don't get me wrong. Tears or no tears I am no longer overly bothered about him being with her per se; Her obviously worked hard to get him and Him Formerly clearly worked hard to enable her, perhaps they are good for each other. It is just the sickening feeling of seeing how easily Her has been accepted and allowed to slot so neatly into the space beside him as if I never existed.
The people who once knew us as a couple are just all round smiles and laughter. No qualms, no consciences pricked and no knowledge of what Him Formerly has said or done to me. Not one of those people who knew us both have sent me a kind word of sympathy. Neither those now just his friends, nor his family of which I was a part of for 15 years. I am now deleted. Just. Like. That.
And if that isn't enough, Him Formerly told me he wanted to come and collect a few things. Namely shoe brushes (fancy moving in with a woman who doesn't have shoe brushes. Maybe she has webbed feet and doesn't need them.) and a cheese slice. A frickin' cheese slice I ask you. I couldn't help but laugh and tell him to sod off and go and buy a new one at Tesco (about £1.50 I believe).
"But I was attached to the cheese slice." He said. "Funny that," I countered. "I was attached to lots of things from the past 15 years but Hey Ho. Shit happens." What a pity for Him Formerly (and if you ask me a worrying prospect for Her) - that he didn't manage to get attached to something a little more substantial.
So no. I am, thankfully, not tougher than a turnip. I am methinks more of a dragon fruit. Strange, colourful and with some almost dangerous looking features on the outside but yielding, soft and sweet and on the inside. Only it might take a little more than a cheese slice to find it.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Progress Report
Having removed Being Terribly Naughty from my list of challenges due to my having complicated it by inverting the meaning and therefore confusing myself with logic gaps, I feel I ought to replace it with something. Now, it is a little, tiny bit tempting to include (said in a whisper in the hope you might not remind me I said it) Giving Up Smoking. I know. I know. Of course I should. And I have been thinking about it more of late (after all, it has become a bit of a seasonal sport because standing outside post-October isn't much fun) and kind of want to do it.
It is a bit of a major one to tackle because when it comes to the 'if someone could wave a magic wand' question my answer isn't that 'I wish I'd never started' or 'to give up instantly'. My wish is that it was good for me. Or at least not bad for me. I was raised on a cultural diet of smokey pubs, nightclubs and gigs, Ian McCulloch, 1950's cult heroes, Kent cigarettes looking terribly cool and general rebelliousness - all of which imbue smoking with a strange, if deadly, attraction for me. It's the deadly bit I'm not keen on. So bear with me. It's not forgotten. I'll start practicing and then sometime soon (ish) will decide on a start date. Or I might just start and tell you after the event.
Getting Thinner - The thinking thin has been somewhat lacking as I have been thinking of other things. Namely how good it feels to be able to eat properly again. On the positive side, although there was a momentary one pound gain I have now reverted back to 13 stone 1lb - which is actually half a pound lighter the last progress report.
As for the exercising (best not to look to me for inspiration on this front) I haven't managed 4 sets of anything other than getting out of bed for the last week. So tonight I will be getting back on track as I have noticed there are some bits of me that might look a little more appealing with a bit of toning. It's either that or look forward to any future action (hope you note the positive - or wishful if you insist - thinking here) being conducted strictly with the lights out. 'Tis strange to think no man other that Him Formerly has seen me naked since I was 25. 'Tis not so strange that I don't actually want to think about it too much
Getting Out More -Tres successful. Getting out so much I actually find myself looking forward to some being in time. OK, so my getting outs may not be everyone's idea of exciting but for me they are quite big, and quite unusual, insofar as I am doing ordinary things on my own for the first time. Driving a car (or rather following verbal instructions while clinging hopefully to the steering wheel) is getting me out; having to run all errands myself (actually, maybe not that unusual); walking to sports shop to collect a sackful of tennis balls for the BBGs (who like to hide them in parks for all the poor dogs who don't have a human that walks to the sports shop); meeting friends and former colleagues for lunch/drinks/gossip; meeting blog followers for mutual catharsis and cheering upness; walking BBGs; updating local retailers/residents on status of Him Formerly because they all wondered aloud why they haven't seen him and have now taken me under their wings as someone who deserves a bit of a break and the occasional free coffee/doughnut/shoulder.
All that and I have still found time to say yes to trips to the cinema, trips to to pubs, trips to restaurants and even a trip to London (that is a biggie, had to be asked twice to find the courage to say yes to that one). And I even have to put the bins out myself now too. So yes. Getting out more.
Learning to Drive - As noted above, I am still regularly clinging to a steering wheel and hoping for the best. Lesson number six is due tomorrow and hopefully I can remember everything from lesson number two. That's how it seems to work for me anyway.
Considering a Career - There is something about this one that makes me wish I hadn't included it in Project:Life Changing. Partly due to my fondness for tying shoelaces and partly because I haven't yet entirely convinced myself of a way forward. Although 'actively seeking work' in order to access some of the National Insurance I have paid to date, I am still a little torn between what I want to do, what I need to do and what I will probably end up doing. Not to mention other factors coming into play such as BBG sitting, being more mobile should I ever stop clinging and start driving and where I might end up living. I just hope that the synchronicity I am experiencing in other areas of my life will soon manifest in the career corner too.
Either that or I win the lottery.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
It is a bit of a major one to tackle because when it comes to the 'if someone could wave a magic wand' question my answer isn't that 'I wish I'd never started' or 'to give up instantly'. My wish is that it was good for me. Or at least not bad for me. I was raised on a cultural diet of smokey pubs, nightclubs and gigs, Ian McCulloch, 1950's cult heroes, Kent cigarettes looking terribly cool and general rebelliousness - all of which imbue smoking with a strange, if deadly, attraction for me. It's the deadly bit I'm not keen on. So bear with me. It's not forgotten. I'll start practicing and then sometime soon (ish) will decide on a start date. Or I might just start and tell you after the event.
Getting Thinner - The thinking thin has been somewhat lacking as I have been thinking of other things. Namely how good it feels to be able to eat properly again. On the positive side, although there was a momentary one pound gain I have now reverted back to 13 stone 1lb - which is actually half a pound lighter the last progress report.
As for the exercising (best not to look to me for inspiration on this front) I haven't managed 4 sets of anything other than getting out of bed for the last week. So tonight I will be getting back on track as I have noticed there are some bits of me that might look a little more appealing with a bit of toning. It's either that or look forward to any future action (hope you note the positive - or wishful if you insist - thinking here) being conducted strictly with the lights out. 'Tis strange to think no man other that Him Formerly has seen me naked since I was 25. 'Tis not so strange that I don't actually want to think about it too much
Getting Out More -Tres successful. Getting out so much I actually find myself looking forward to some being in time. OK, so my getting outs may not be everyone's idea of exciting but for me they are quite big, and quite unusual, insofar as I am doing ordinary things on my own for the first time. Driving a car (or rather following verbal instructions while clinging hopefully to the steering wheel) is getting me out; having to run all errands myself (actually, maybe not that unusual); walking to sports shop to collect a sackful of tennis balls for the BBGs (who like to hide them in parks for all the poor dogs who don't have a human that walks to the sports shop); meeting friends and former colleagues for lunch/drinks/gossip; meeting blog followers for mutual catharsis and cheering upness; walking BBGs; updating local retailers/residents on status of Him Formerly because they all wondered aloud why they haven't seen him and have now taken me under their wings as someone who deserves a bit of a break and the occasional free coffee/doughnut/shoulder.
All that and I have still found time to say yes to trips to the cinema, trips to to pubs, trips to restaurants and even a trip to London (that is a biggie, had to be asked twice to find the courage to say yes to that one). And I even have to put the bins out myself now too. So yes. Getting out more.
Learning to Drive - As noted above, I am still regularly clinging to a steering wheel and hoping for the best. Lesson number six is due tomorrow and hopefully I can remember everything from lesson number two. That's how it seems to work for me anyway.
Considering a Career - There is something about this one that makes me wish I hadn't included it in Project:Life Changing. Partly due to my fondness for tying shoelaces and partly because I haven't yet entirely convinced myself of a way forward. Although 'actively seeking work' in order to access some of the National Insurance I have paid to date, I am still a little torn between what I want to do, what I need to do and what I will probably end up doing. Not to mention other factors coming into play such as BBG sitting, being more mobile should I ever stop clinging and start driving and where I might end up living. I just hope that the synchronicity I am experiencing in other areas of my life will soon manifest in the career corner too.
Either that or I win the lottery.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Tuesday 13 July 2010
Not Nice
Can't frickin' sleep. It's 4:59 am and I am still no closer to my movie night of dreams than I was 6hrs ago. Only it's not tears, snot or nausea. I am just fucking angry. Fucking angry that I have to go through the fucking angry stage at a point when I am beginning to discover that life is so much nicer and more promising without an emotionally vapid grizzly in the background.
The anger isn't very nice; I have plotted at least 47 ways to create maximum public humiliation and shame for Him Formerly and Her. It's not that I am concerned the plotting isn't nice, after all, it's not meant to be. Nice didn't come into it when they decided it would be a good idea to have an affair when I needed some love and support. Nice didn't come into it when they were canoodling in the office on the pretext of 'being busy at work'. Nice didn't come into it when Him Formerly said he needed to 'stand on his own two feet' and then moved into her flat. And nice certainly didn't come into the appalling way Him Formerly has treated me for the past year. (Me being the muppet I was just explained it all away as my fault because poor Him Formerly couldn't cope. Pfft.)
What isn't nice is that I am too fucking nice to be capable of carrying out any of my vicious plots. Dammit. Which leaves me feeling all the more angry that I spent 15 years trusting someone who is. Someone who has taken lies and deception to a level so cowardly and cruel it is verging on the inhumane. (Note to United Nations - formal amendments to the Human Rights Act required).
Lucky for me there is a bright side, because bright sides are currently popping up all over the place. Said side being that I just might run out of niceness before I reach the I-don't-care-I'm-gonna-do-it-anyway stage. Which could be a whole heap of mwhahaha fun.
See, still moving in the right direction, something else to look forward to.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
The anger isn't very nice; I have plotted at least 47 ways to create maximum public humiliation and shame for Him Formerly and Her. It's not that I am concerned the plotting isn't nice, after all, it's not meant to be. Nice didn't come into it when they decided it would be a good idea to have an affair when I needed some love and support. Nice didn't come into it when they were canoodling in the office on the pretext of 'being busy at work'. Nice didn't come into it when Him Formerly said he needed to 'stand on his own two feet' and then moved into her flat. And nice certainly didn't come into the appalling way Him Formerly has treated me for the past year. (Me being the muppet I was just explained it all away as my fault because poor Him Formerly couldn't cope. Pfft.)
What isn't nice is that I am too fucking nice to be capable of carrying out any of my vicious plots. Dammit. Which leaves me feeling all the more angry that I spent 15 years trusting someone who is. Someone who has taken lies and deception to a level so cowardly and cruel it is verging on the inhumane. (Note to United Nations - formal amendments to the Human Rights Act required).
Lucky for me there is a bright side, because bright sides are currently popping up all over the place. Said side being that I just might run out of niceness before I reach the I-don't-care-I'm-gonna-do-it-anyway stage. Which could be a whole heap of mwhahaha fun.
See, still moving in the right direction, something else to look forward to.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Monday 12 July 2010
Tougher Than A Turnip
Some 266 years after Charles 'Turnip' Townshend imported Dutch turnips to the UK for the first time, I accidentally imported my own in the shape of Him Formerly Known as Bear. I mistakenly believed I was getting something substantial, more along the lines of meat and two veg. But no, I got a turnip. A turnip that after 15 years decided to turnip his nose at me and bugger off for a new life with Little Miss Sound of Music, leaving me to crumble like a dried up old stock cube.
But you know what, I am stronger than that. Tougher than a bloody turnip. So I am now turnipping my nose right back. He can stew in his own juice because I am off to get me something a little more tasty.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
But you know what, I am stronger than that. Tougher than a bloody turnip. So I am now turnipping my nose right back. He can stew in his own juice because I am off to get me something a little more tasty.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Sunday 11 July 2010
En Avant
I detect some forward motion folks. Some progress. It makes me feel a little queasy, a little uncomfortable, a little scared and a little sad. And a tiny bit braver. (But don't hold me to that last one, it might not last). However, (clears throat nervously) I think, just maybe, I have come over all Rose DeWitt and found the courage to release my grip, to let my icy Jack Dawson (definitely feeling queasy about this) slip quietly into the depths that are my past.
Unless you have done the same you have no idea how hard it is to let go. And how hard it is to admit it. I couldn't labour the point enough to explain it, so I wont even try. But through the astounding love, friendship and support provided by family and friends new and friends old, I have finally found the courage to let go. Now I feel really sick. Strange as that may seem.
I am a little fearful in the knowledge that there may still be times ahead when I look back to the descending past, but it is of no matter. As my hands are now free, my heart can now follow. Both sensing the freedom to receive, to embrace the future, to nurture my dreams and to feel the shivers of warmth I so bitterly miss.
There is another hand to hold out there. And with luck another heart. Sensing that is a step in the right direction. I'm going that way.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Unless you have done the same you have no idea how hard it is to let go. And how hard it is to admit it. I couldn't labour the point enough to explain it, so I wont even try. But through the astounding love, friendship and support provided by family and friends new and friends old, I have finally found the courage to let go. Now I feel really sick. Strange as that may seem.
I am a little fearful in the knowledge that there may still be times ahead when I look back to the descending past, but it is of no matter. As my hands are now free, my heart can now follow. Both sensing the freedom to receive, to embrace the future, to nurture my dreams and to feel the shivers of warmth I so bitterly miss.
There is another hand to hold out there. And with luck another heart. Sensing that is a step in the right direction. I'm going that way.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Because I Want To
Confession time. I have done what I promised I wouldn't do and that is completely cock up my sleep pattern. I know I have done this effectively because as I write at 6:05 am, not yet having slept, I do not know if I should refer to last night as last night or the night before as last night, being as the night before was the last one that had a night, so to speak.
Anyway, the night before the one I missed out I was a guest at the home of some special people, namely Big Cuz and Juicy. As were the BBG's even though their manners aren't all they should be and even though Rock Star and Pickle don't seem to have hit it off. Pickle is the little man of the house who, just because he is a small person, scares the bejesus out of Rock Star. Which makes Rock Star bark. Which in turn scares the bejesus out of Pickle. And so it goes on, like a scene from Monsters Inc, Rock Star and Pickle in terrified, quivering stand off.
Lucky for me (and Rock Star), Juicy is not actually human. She is in fact a floaty, angelic being, wafting about her motherly duties , remaining calm and unflustered by behavioural oddities in canines, small children and indeed, grown women who cry a lot. There was, unexpectedly, a lot of crying that day. Just sort of woke up with it and it stayed.
This crying malarky comes in waves, creeping up when you least expect it. A stealth attack I am reliably informed. Well bugger stealth attacks. They can bugger off and stealth someone else. I for one am done with them.
Next time I cry it will be because I want to. Or because some special people bring tears to my eyes by asking me to be Godmother to a very special little girl.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Anyway, the night before the one I missed out I was a guest at the home of some special people, namely Big Cuz and Juicy. As were the BBG's even though their manners aren't all they should be and even though Rock Star and Pickle don't seem to have hit it off. Pickle is the little man of the house who, just because he is a small person, scares the bejesus out of Rock Star. Which makes Rock Star bark. Which in turn scares the bejesus out of Pickle. And so it goes on, like a scene from Monsters Inc, Rock Star and Pickle in terrified, quivering stand off.
Lucky for me (and Rock Star), Juicy is not actually human. She is in fact a floaty, angelic being, wafting about her motherly duties , remaining calm and unflustered by behavioural oddities in canines, small children and indeed, grown women who cry a lot. There was, unexpectedly, a lot of crying that day. Just sort of woke up with it and it stayed.
This crying malarky comes in waves, creeping up when you least expect it. A stealth attack I am reliably informed. Well bugger stealth attacks. They can bugger off and stealth someone else. I for one am done with them.
Next time I cry it will be because I want to. Or because some special people bring tears to my eyes by asking me to be Godmother to a very special little girl.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Friday 9 July 2010
A Thought
While lunching today with Little Cuz (who isn't so little but is younger than Big Cuz) who drove a few squillion miles to pay me a welfare visit and ensure I got a sensible meal inside me (he expressed his concern at the strong tea and banana diet). How sensible is a sausage and onion baguette and chips one might ask. And one might also ask how sensible is it to hold on to the white butterfly.
On asking myself the latter question, after a ponder I decided I don't need to hold on to the white butterfly. The only living thing that can give me hope is me and it is only through me that things can change for the better.
Sounds like I need some Project:Life Changing then.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
On asking myself the latter question, after a ponder I decided I don't need to hold on to the white butterfly. The only living thing that can give me hope is me and it is only through me that things can change for the better.
Sounds like I need some Project:Life Changing then.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Thursday 8 July 2010
Talking Shop
Sit down people. Prepare yourself. Today I felt ... wait for it ... happy. Aitch, ay, pee, pee, why. Happy. Those of you who have popped by for today's woeful installment may be somewhat disappointed at the lack of woe. Don't worry. Pop back later and I am sure normal service will resume. It's probably just over exertion yesterday that's put me out of sorts. (Over exerted crying mainly. Crying by the fish counter at Makro, crying in the olive oil aisle at Makro, crying on the way home from Makro, you get the idea.) I am sure the fluids just need replenishing.
Dehydrated tear ducts aside, today was as close to wonderful as any day I can remember in recent months. For the first time in ages I felt like me. And I smiled. And I laughed. Because today I decided to implement my just say yes plan more fully. Yes this is happening to me. Yes I have to deal with it. And yes I can. Big fat yesses all round today. (With one exception. But that was just cheeky and I didn't understand the question anyway).
This morning I received a message from New Male Friend claiming he had discovered an unclaimed cup of tea in IKEA. This sounded like an invitation. Usual thought process would be, 'Oh. An invitation. There must be a reason I can't go. Don't feel too good, better stay at home. Safer. Then I can't say or do the wrong thing. Can't upset anyone. Besides, IKEA is miles away (about half of one actually) I might get lost, or panic. or something else awful. So no. I won't go.'
Only today, I had a Nike moment and thought, just do it. So I replied with a message saying, "I'll be there at 1pm." Next moment, non-Nike, I thought "WHAAAAAT did I just say. OMG I have agreed to go and meet a stranger in a big shop that I don't know how to get into without a car. Fuck. Fortunately next moment was another Nike one and I was out of the door, walking in the sunshine and heading out on what felt to me like an awfully big adventure.
A short time later there were two people sitting in the Swedish meatball joint, eating Princess cake and jelly and having a nice time and a lot of laughs (and on one or two occasions trying not to cry in public). There was no big pointy arrow above our heads declaring our unfitness to be loved, no judge or jury casting opinions on our emotional integrity and certainly no other bugger loitering around and making us feel shit. Just two people sharing experiences that they wished they never had to experience. Which oddly, is a very nice experience.
So thank you New Male Friend. It's good to talk. As I think I may have mentioned before.
Yours in hope and happiness, AJ x
Dehydrated tear ducts aside, today was as close to wonderful as any day I can remember in recent months. For the first time in ages I felt like me. And I smiled. And I laughed. Because today I decided to implement my just say yes plan more fully. Yes this is happening to me. Yes I have to deal with it. And yes I can. Big fat yesses all round today. (With one exception. But that was just cheeky and I didn't understand the question anyway).
This morning I received a message from New Male Friend claiming he had discovered an unclaimed cup of tea in IKEA. This sounded like an invitation. Usual thought process would be, 'Oh. An invitation. There must be a reason I can't go. Don't feel too good, better stay at home. Safer. Then I can't say or do the wrong thing. Can't upset anyone. Besides, IKEA is miles away (about half of one actually) I might get lost, or panic. or something else awful. So no. I won't go.'
Only today, I had a Nike moment and thought, just do it. So I replied with a message saying, "I'll be there at 1pm." Next moment, non-Nike, I thought "WHAAAAAT did I just say. OMG I have agreed to go and meet a stranger in a big shop that I don't know how to get into without a car. Fuck. Fortunately next moment was another Nike one and I was out of the door, walking in the sunshine and heading out on what felt to me like an awfully big adventure.
A short time later there were two people sitting in the Swedish meatball joint, eating Princess cake and jelly and having a nice time and a lot of laughs (and on one or two occasions trying not to cry in public). There was no big pointy arrow above our heads declaring our unfitness to be loved, no judge or jury casting opinions on our emotional integrity and certainly no other bugger loitering around and making us feel shit. Just two people sharing experiences that they wished they never had to experience. Which oddly, is a very nice experience.
So thank you New Male Friend. It's good to talk. As I think I may have mentioned before.
Yours in hope and happiness, AJ x
Tuesday 6 July 2010
Circles
Today I spent some time poking about on crappy websites, desperately trying to find a cure for my broken heart (I'd like to call it research but it wasn't). The only cures available cost $39.00 plus P&P so of no use to someone who has moved from Dinky to skint in slightly less than two months.
I must say it was a tempting array of cures - Get Over Your Lost Love in Ten Easy Steps; Heal Your Heart While You Sleep and How To Forget Your Long Term Love in 24 Hours (Maybe Him Formerly Known as Bear will let me have his copy). I am sure there was even one that advocated eating shellfish and alfalfa, but I suddenly felt a lot better.
I am reliably informed by those in the know that Time (note capitalisation to highlight importance) is the only thing that will ease the pain. And yet I am informed by myself, albeit somewhat less reliably, that that is poppycock. Being the jobless, penniless, useless heap I am at present I have plenty of Time ... and I still feel shit.
I think what those in the know actually mean is the Passage of Time. But that's assuming everyone has the nous to enter aforementioned passage through the door marked Moving Forward. Nous is currently in short supply for me, so I didn't. Apparently my curiosity was piqued by the door marked LHC and as a result I find myself subjected to the questionable experience of having my emotions particley accelerated in giant, dizzying circles.
On the bright side, at least going round in circles isn't standing still. And better still, I managed to see the bright side.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
I must say it was a tempting array of cures - Get Over Your Lost Love in Ten Easy Steps; Heal Your Heart While You Sleep and How To Forget Your Long Term Love in 24 Hours (Maybe Him Formerly Known as Bear will let me have his copy). I am sure there was even one that advocated eating shellfish and alfalfa, but I suddenly felt a lot better.
I am reliably informed by those in the know that Time (note capitalisation to highlight importance) is the only thing that will ease the pain. And yet I am informed by myself, albeit somewhat less reliably, that that is poppycock. Being the jobless, penniless, useless heap I am at present I have plenty of Time ... and I still feel shit.
I think what those in the know actually mean is the Passage of Time. But that's assuming everyone has the nous to enter aforementioned passage through the door marked Moving Forward. Nous is currently in short supply for me, so I didn't. Apparently my curiosity was piqued by the door marked LHC and as a result I find myself subjected to the questionable experience of having my emotions particley accelerated in giant, dizzying circles.
On the bright side, at least going round in circles isn't standing still. And better still, I managed to see the bright side.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
I Want A Pony
New Male Friend is the pseudonym I will henceforth be using when referencing the lovely fellow of previous blogs. Because he is what it says on the tin. I like to steal (plagiarise is the technical term) his words sometimes because he has a slightly more 'blokeish' way of putting things, a good foil for my Wuthering tendencies.
Besides, he has restored a little bit of my faith in the male capacity for empathy and understanding on the scale currently required. Partly because he has recently endured a similar experience, i.e. broken heart, crushed dreams, anger, frustration and snot, tears and nausea. Mainly because he talks about it. Talking is good. Not talking is bad. Not talking to the person you should be talking to is badder still.
I am pretty sure that we are all guilty of not talking when we should be talking - I for one hold my hands up to sometimes shouting rather than talking, particularly at times when I feel I am not being heard. It makes sense to me (well, it does in that stupid bit of brain we all have that never works properly on days of the week ending in'y'), if they can't hear what I'm saying I'll just say it a little louder. Yet the louder I talked, the less I was heard in a counter intuitive sort of way.
We've all witnessed an I Want a Pony session, shouting, screaming, sulking and even a little foot stamping thrown in for good measure. I suspect we have also all stopped listening at that point. But if we listen a little harder, learn to listen with our hearts and minds and not just our ears, we will know that it's not a pony they want. They just want to be heard.
So next time someone starts talking to you, and talking a little louder than you think necessary, remember they just want you to listen. And you can start by talking to them, not someone else.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Besides, he has restored a little bit of my faith in the male capacity for empathy and understanding on the scale currently required. Partly because he has recently endured a similar experience, i.e. broken heart, crushed dreams, anger, frustration and snot, tears and nausea. Mainly because he talks about it. Talking is good. Not talking is bad. Not talking to the person you should be talking to is badder still.
I am pretty sure that we are all guilty of not talking when we should be talking - I for one hold my hands up to sometimes shouting rather than talking, particularly at times when I feel I am not being heard. It makes sense to me (well, it does in that stupid bit of brain we all have that never works properly on days of the week ending in'y'), if they can't hear what I'm saying I'll just say it a little louder. Yet the louder I talked, the less I was heard in a counter intuitive sort of way.
We've all witnessed an I Want a Pony session, shouting, screaming, sulking and even a little foot stamping thrown in for good measure. I suspect we have also all stopped listening at that point. But if we listen a little harder, learn to listen with our hearts and minds and not just our ears, we will know that it's not a pony they want. They just want to be heard.
So next time someone starts talking to you, and talking a little louder than you think necessary, remember they just want you to listen. And you can start by talking to them, not someone else.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Monday 5 July 2010
Please ...
The best time to write a blog entry is not 3.10 am when you are unable to sleep because the awfulness of what someone has done to you is beginning to sink in. The awfulness is made worse because I don't want to believe it.
I don't want to believe that the person who has broken my heart, the person who I loved above all else, is the kind of person who can betray me so terribly. While seeing me suffer as my best friend lives her final days, while seeing the fear in my heart of how lonely I will feel without her, while seeing my confidence shattered through losing my job, while seeing me get weaker in spirit day after day, while seeing me battle against all my inner demons, while all the time I believed he was there for me ... he was making plans with Her to leave me.
And if that kind of cruelty isn't enough, he sent me a card with such beautiful words written on the inside ... "I will be with you through these dark days and forever. Always. " And I believed him, his words and his touch.
I know how he must have struggled with me and my dark clouds, never feeling there was room for him. I know how desperately unhappy he was with our life together as it seemed to spiral into the depths. But I also know that given time to take the white butterfly from the box, I would have regained some strength to focus on what needed to be done. Why could he not give me the gift of time when I needed it the most. Some of the forever he promised me?
So please, anyone who is still awake, who may perchance read this before my fear of such rawness in print makes me remove it, please tell me why I still love him and still would take him back in a heartbeat.
Because I just don't know.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
I don't want to believe that the person who has broken my heart, the person who I loved above all else, is the kind of person who can betray me so terribly. While seeing me suffer as my best friend lives her final days, while seeing the fear in my heart of how lonely I will feel without her, while seeing my confidence shattered through losing my job, while seeing me get weaker in spirit day after day, while seeing me battle against all my inner demons, while all the time I believed he was there for me ... he was making plans with Her to leave me.
And if that kind of cruelty isn't enough, he sent me a card with such beautiful words written on the inside ... "I will be with you through these dark days and forever. Always. " And I believed him, his words and his touch.
I know how he must have struggled with me and my dark clouds, never feeling there was room for him. I know how desperately unhappy he was with our life together as it seemed to spiral into the depths. But I also know that given time to take the white butterfly from the box, I would have regained some strength to focus on what needed to be done. Why could he not give me the gift of time when I needed it the most. Some of the forever he promised me?
So please, anyone who is still awake, who may perchance read this before my fear of such rawness in print makes me remove it, please tell me why I still love him and still would take him back in a heartbeat.
Because I just don't know.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Sunday 4 July 2010
Words
Deprived of something, lacking something you need, bereaved ... a few ways to define 'bereft' and none of which strike me as particularly funny. When you feel bereft you also know it, and that isn't funny either. However, during a recent rip-roaring sobbing session when I stated between sniffs (actually they were probably snorts) that I felt so bereft, Little Blister laughed. Quietly. She confessed her wickedness to me tonight. Then laughed. Again.
Funnily enough, it made me laugh too (which feels a whole lot better than sniffing or snorting) and it made me realise that some words can never truly be understood until you feel them. I have never before used the word bereft in relation to my own feelings and pray that I never have to again, but there is something quite rewarding about discovering the exquisite power of a word to so perfectly describe a feeling, to get a deeper understanding beyond its literal definition. Incidentally, 'exquisite' is another word I have felt. I first felt it (cue laughter) when I heard Aled Jones sing Pie Jesu many years ago.
The list of words I love the most are words that have touched my heart, making me appreciate them so much more. And so 'bereft' has been duly added to the list. Along with the word Sister. For making me laugh again.
yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Funnily enough, it made me laugh too (which feels a whole lot better than sniffing or snorting) and it made me realise that some words can never truly be understood until you feel them. I have never before used the word bereft in relation to my own feelings and pray that I never have to again, but there is something quite rewarding about discovering the exquisite power of a word to so perfectly describe a feeling, to get a deeper understanding beyond its literal definition. Incidentally, 'exquisite' is another word I have felt. I first felt it (cue laughter) when I heard Aled Jones sing Pie Jesu many years ago.
The list of words I love the most are words that have touched my heart, making me appreciate them so much more. And so 'bereft' has been duly added to the list. Along with the word Sister. For making me laugh again.
yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Handyman
While having a chat with a fellow broken heart (And a lovely fellow he is too. Yes, apparently some men have the capacity for empathy too. Some. Not all.) he pointed out that us broken people are clogging up society with our misery. I for one am certainly clogging up my blog.
Now I don't know if I am bonkers or if these ups and downs are just normal under the circumstances but having reviewed what I wrote earlier today I am beginning to think the former. What on earth was I thinking, blethering on like a poor quality novelist through my tears, snot and nausea (of which lovely fellow, who put it so succinctly, assures me I have plenty more to come. Thanks for that.)
This blog is meant to be a positive thing - Project:Life Changing not Project:Hand Wringing. Now I finally got myself out of bed and thought a good dose of housework might sort me out. Dinging wrong again. It made me cry. The washing machine is broken, the hoover started smelling of burning rubber and the bin bag split and spilled over the hallway floor as I was wrestling it out to the wheelie bin.
It all felt very overwhelming, or so I thought. I wailed for a bit, wishing Him Formerly Known as Bear was here to help ... and then my sanity returned. He didn't help. Now this isn't a man hating episode, just a reality check. Him Formerly Known as Bear was quite practical, granted, and the washing machine and burning rubber wouldn't faze him. And even when crying I can still scoop up a split bin-bag. Between us all practical things would be taken care of. But me in tears. Me angry, upset or just frustrated. No help. N.O.N.E. Because that would mean he would have to find some empathy or sympathy, both of which he has only limited supplies of and is usually reserved for dogs. (Which is a statement I politely refuse to expand on.)
So who am I kidding. I don't need him. I need a handyman. H has one of those in her phone book.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Now I don't know if I am bonkers or if these ups and downs are just normal under the circumstances but having reviewed what I wrote earlier today I am beginning to think the former. What on earth was I thinking, blethering on like a poor quality novelist through my tears, snot and nausea (of which lovely fellow, who put it so succinctly, assures me I have plenty more to come. Thanks for that.)
This blog is meant to be a positive thing - Project:Life Changing not Project:Hand Wringing. Now I finally got myself out of bed and thought a good dose of housework might sort me out. Dinging wrong again. It made me cry. The washing machine is broken, the hoover started smelling of burning rubber and the bin bag split and spilled over the hallway floor as I was wrestling it out to the wheelie bin.
It all felt very overwhelming, or so I thought. I wailed for a bit, wishing Him Formerly Known as Bear was here to help ... and then my sanity returned. He didn't help. Now this isn't a man hating episode, just a reality check. Him Formerly Known as Bear was quite practical, granted, and the washing machine and burning rubber wouldn't faze him. And even when crying I can still scoop up a split bin-bag. Between us all practical things would be taken care of. But me in tears. Me angry, upset or just frustrated. No help. N.O.N.E. Because that would mean he would have to find some empathy or sympathy, both of which he has only limited supplies of and is usually reserved for dogs. (Which is a statement I politely refuse to expand on.)
So who am I kidding. I don't need him. I need a handyman. H has one of those in her phone book.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Saturday 3 July 2010
Fading to a Brighter Future
It is 9:59 am. I have now been awake for just about three hours. After three hours sleep. My thoughts wake me. The horrid thoughts. The memories of what I thought I had creep back into my mind the moment a hint of consciousness breaks through, sending my stomach back into knots, my thoughts back into overdrive and my heart back to its labour of aching.
This isn't sounding very positive is it? But for a hug and a kiss and a smile in the morning I would give anything. And now I am crying again, recalling the times when Him Formerly Known As Bear did just that and I was grumpy. Ungrateful.
Can anyone tell me why it is so hard for me to recall a time when I wasn't awful? When I was appreciative of what I had? When I showed how much I cared? When I didn't wake each morning hating myself and my life?
There is one person out there who can. And that person is unfortunately Him Formerly Known As Bear. He is is waking in the mornings with a hug and a kiss and a smile from Her. Waking with a good feeling. Waking with a future to look forward to with an abundance of hopes and dreams of what might be and little plans for the day ahead.
Only he won't tell me of my good days. He can't. Because he has buried them. Buried them under the bitterness, sadness and hurt that made him turn from the reasons they began to dwindle and look for an escape route. He has buried them under the guise of having the courage to do the right thing. They will stay inside him, hidden from me. And also hidden from Her.
But one day I will be able to recall them. Of that I am certain because what I feel now will pass, many of you have told me that - those of you who know from experience and even some of you who are still going through it but a little further down the road. I do know that it is all part of the grieving and part of the recovery. Some alone time, some lonely times. Time to think for myself, about myself, time for tears and for aching and for healing.
And that is not something I could do in the arms of someone else. Not unless I too buried the past. Leaving it with a far greater power to come back and haunt me, casting long shadows over all my days, making sunny ones a little less bright and darker ones so much darker. The ghost in the machine.
For that reason I would rather wake alone, feeling sick and tired but with the knowledge that I am every day looking the ghost of my past in the eye and daring it to do its worst. It does. And it hurts. But with every attack it loses just a little of its power and fades a little more. A tiny bit at a time, but fading. And the sooner it fades the sooner the light can shine through. For me. And hopefully in time, my someone else.
yours in hope and fear, AJ x
This isn't sounding very positive is it? But for a hug and a kiss and a smile in the morning I would give anything. And now I am crying again, recalling the times when Him Formerly Known As Bear did just that and I was grumpy. Ungrateful.
Can anyone tell me why it is so hard for me to recall a time when I wasn't awful? When I was appreciative of what I had? When I showed how much I cared? When I didn't wake each morning hating myself and my life?
There is one person out there who can. And that person is unfortunately Him Formerly Known As Bear. He is is waking in the mornings with a hug and a kiss and a smile from Her. Waking with a good feeling. Waking with a future to look forward to with an abundance of hopes and dreams of what might be and little plans for the day ahead.
Only he won't tell me of my good days. He can't. Because he has buried them. Buried them under the bitterness, sadness and hurt that made him turn from the reasons they began to dwindle and look for an escape route. He has buried them under the guise of having the courage to do the right thing. They will stay inside him, hidden from me. And also hidden from Her.
But one day I will be able to recall them. Of that I am certain because what I feel now will pass, many of you have told me that - those of you who know from experience and even some of you who are still going through it but a little further down the road. I do know that it is all part of the grieving and part of the recovery. Some alone time, some lonely times. Time to think for myself, about myself, time for tears and for aching and for healing.
And that is not something I could do in the arms of someone else. Not unless I too buried the past. Leaving it with a far greater power to come back and haunt me, casting long shadows over all my days, making sunny ones a little less bright and darker ones so much darker. The ghost in the machine.
For that reason I would rather wake alone, feeling sick and tired but with the knowledge that I am every day looking the ghost of my past in the eye and daring it to do its worst. It does. And it hurts. But with every attack it loses just a little of its power and fades a little more. A tiny bit at a time, but fading. And the sooner it fades the sooner the light can shine through. For me. And hopefully in time, my someone else.
yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Friday 2 July 2010
Progress Report
As predicted in 'Fasten Your Seatbelts' it is indeed a bumpy ride. I stalled three times on my driving lesson today and nearly had a full blown hissy fit at myself for being so rubbish. To make matters worse I could sense Nice Man Instructor was not having so nice a time of it. Patient as he is I am sure I might be the one to make him blow a gasket, assuming I don't blow one first. So, status update on Learning to Drive is ... maybe. Lesson number four indicates more of a maybe not. Fingers crossed crap driving isn't hereditary because my Nan took about 9000 lessons, eight tests and never passed. Not that it stopped her driving.
Getting Thinner is continuing successful with minimum effort as there are still days when tea and bananas are the most I can manage. Though tonight H made me eat lots of crisps so she wouldn't eat them. So I have had some carbs, and fat, and salt, and pepper. Achieved four of my five a day with two bananas (I'm having that as two even if they are meant to be different), half a pot of wholegrain strawberry yoghurt (strawberries count) and half a bottle of fermented grapes. Am now 13 stone 1.5 pounds. Hourglass is back. Jeans all saggy arsed, belt up two notches and Little Blister preparing for New Wardrobe campaign.
Getting Out More is succeeding on a technicality as I have full responsibility for dog walking. I suggested to Him Formerly Known As Bear that instilling the BBG's with a four walks/wee's a day but-not-in-our-garden habit was not a good idea as it was a) A little restrictive for us and b) Not conducive to making it easy to find someone willing to take on the challenge if we needed time out. Him Formerly Known As Bear disagreed. (Quite likely all part of his plan to make life as difficult for me as possible following his BUA that wasn't the least bit U for him.) So I tried to make Bob and Rock Star wee in the garden tonight, Doodlebug doing it anyway because she's not fussy. My pleading for the two prima-donnas to wee was met with crossed legs and disdainful looks. And a bit of sulking from Bob who hid behind the sun lounger.
So I went out for the seventh time today having to take Bob and Rock Star somewhere else for their toilette. They curtsied accordingly, did their deed and trotted home looking very smug with themselves at winning tonight's battle. Tomorrow is an altogether different day.
Being Terribly Naughty is proving a mixed bag as I have confused myself with the whole reverse psychology thing. Though that could be something to do with the grapes.
Considering a Career is under consideration and inching forward. Daren't say yet. Need to sleep on it, but H gave me a 'hallelulah' in the garden tonight. In a 'Hall - El - Ulah' fashion as if to indicate I was stating the bloody obvious.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Getting Thinner is continuing successful with minimum effort as there are still days when tea and bananas are the most I can manage. Though tonight H made me eat lots of crisps so she wouldn't eat them. So I have had some carbs, and fat, and salt, and pepper. Achieved four of my five a day with two bananas (I'm having that as two even if they are meant to be different), half a pot of wholegrain strawberry yoghurt (strawberries count) and half a bottle of fermented grapes. Am now 13 stone 1.5 pounds. Hourglass is back. Jeans all saggy arsed, belt up two notches and Little Blister preparing for New Wardrobe campaign.
Getting Out More is succeeding on a technicality as I have full responsibility for dog walking. I suggested to Him Formerly Known As Bear that instilling the BBG's with a four walks/wee's a day but-not-in-our-garden habit was not a good idea as it was a) A little restrictive for us and b) Not conducive to making it easy to find someone willing to take on the challenge if we needed time out. Him Formerly Known As Bear disagreed. (Quite likely all part of his plan to make life as difficult for me as possible following his BUA that wasn't the least bit U for him.) So I tried to make Bob and Rock Star wee in the garden tonight, Doodlebug doing it anyway because she's not fussy. My pleading for the two prima-donnas to wee was met with crossed legs and disdainful looks. And a bit of sulking from Bob who hid behind the sun lounger.
So I went out for the seventh time today having to take Bob and Rock Star somewhere else for their toilette. They curtsied accordingly, did their deed and trotted home looking very smug with themselves at winning tonight's battle. Tomorrow is an altogether different day.
Being Terribly Naughty is proving a mixed bag as I have confused myself with the whole reverse psychology thing. Though that could be something to do with the grapes.
Considering a Career is under consideration and inching forward. Daren't say yet. Need to sleep on it, but H gave me a 'hallelulah' in the garden tonight. In a 'Hall - El - Ulah' fashion as if to indicate I was stating the bloody obvious.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
Thursday 1 July 2010
Epiphany
Difficult to be witty or funny or touching today as I have lost my positivity pants. They are probably hiding out with my mojo because that has disappeared too. Even being told I looked like a Greek goddess today didn't cheer me up. It just made me cry. In the High Street. Because no matter what I look like on the outside, it would seem I am just rotten on the inside. The Bear told me today that he is a wreck and that my contribution to the past 15 years is "nothing to be proud of."
I am certainly not proud. To realise I am responsible for causing someone else such unhappiness is almost more than I can cope with. I want to curl up and die with shame and regret. I cringe and hurt and cry so very hard to think of all the pain and distress I have caused him. All the more so because I did so without realising. All the more so because he gave me no chance to make amends.
But there is one little shard of hope glinting in the distance, the hope that the day will come when I can forgive myself. The Bear is yet to have his realisation. And when his epiphany comes, I will forgive him too.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
I am certainly not proud. To realise I am responsible for causing someone else such unhappiness is almost more than I can cope with. I want to curl up and die with shame and regret. I cringe and hurt and cry so very hard to think of all the pain and distress I have caused him. All the more so because I did so without realising. All the more so because he gave me no chance to make amends.
But there is one little shard of hope glinting in the distance, the hope that the day will come when I can forgive myself. The Bear is yet to have his realisation. And when his epiphany comes, I will forgive him too.
Yours in hope and fear, AJ x
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