Annus Mirabilis

Well. Where to start? How do I write this final blog for Project: Life Changing? I am not feeling broken or dejected, nor particularly witty or amusing or bitter or sour – all emotions that I have relied on in previous entries to rinse something vaguely interesting out of the keyboard and onto the page.

No, dear readers - and excuse the rather large assumption that I might still attract enough of you to warrant the use of the plural – today I am feeling just plain unusual, something I have been getting used to for some weeks now but that has proven quite difficult to describe.

Today was also the first day in a long time that I have spent alone with no plans or chores or expectation of action. My first New Year opportunity to quietly reflect on the past twelve months. I shed a few tears. Just the little sad sort that many of us have when we ponder awhile on the past and realise how blessed we are to be looking forward to another year, a brand new year stretching out before us.

New Year has always given me the same feeling I had on starting a new school book. All empty and clean and white, drawing promises of hard work and neat handwriting. This year it also makes me feel like the snow made me feel … an untrodden blanket of soft brilliance that I simultaneously don't want to disturb and yet can't resist walking on, fundamentally thrilled at the sight of my own footprints being the first.

And somehow, today's reflections have just sort of fallen into place with a semblance of coherence that I might just be able to write about, to sum up what 2010 has meant to me and how 2011 looks. Because be assured, I have never felt like this before – at least not as an adult. Not right at the core of my being, deep, deep in my heart in a way I can comprehend.

Some of my close friends and family may recall one of my little 'parlour games' (for want of a better description) has been to ask them that if they could relive any of their life experiences again, what would they choose. It is tempting to suppose that it would be the big, joyful or exciting experiences – big days such as births, weddings, graduations or personal successes. And indeed, initially it often was. But I now know I was asking the question with a hidden agenda, trying to seek reassurance because my moment of choice was nothing so grand. Because I didn't really understand why my choice was what it was, why it presented itself as such an insignificant event yet felt so powerful to me. I was inadvertently trying to compare moments to see what I was missing out on.

My moment of choice was just for an hour or so to be at my grandparent's house, sitting on the carpet in front of the coal fire, drinking tea and eating cake. Just me, Nanny and Grandad. Strangely it could be either set of grandparents and strange too that in the reality of all those occasions there would undoubtedly also be a parent or sibling present. But in my head those perfect moments are just the three of us. I now know that those moments are so powerful to me because they are the memory of total and utter contentment, love and happiness, the memories of childhood ease, safety and comfort where the rest of the world and its attendant cares and worries melted into nothingness.

Whether or not they ever really happened as I imagine they did is irrelevant, what is relevant is that I could recall the feeling. And through recalling the feeling I could learn again to experience it. To learn again how to let go of fears and troubles and just be myself, in the moment, in the here and now and no longer giving anyone else the power to destroy my sense of self, safety, contentment or happiness.

Of course there might still be difficult times, sad times, days when staying under the duvet is a good option. But there will now always be that better place in my heart that I can go to, where I know that so long as my values are intact no-one else can hold me to emotional ransom. And that means I am where I am now.

So if you asked me what 2010 would be remembered as, perhaps twelve months ago following the death of my closest friend; or eleven months ago when I was told I was being made redundant; or ten months ago when I was suffering from anxiety and depression; or eight months ago when Him Formerly told me he was leaving me after 15 years together; or six months ago when I discovered Him Formerly had been betraying me for so long; or five months ago when it became a reality that I would have to leave my beautiful home; or even two or three months ago when finances hit rock bottom and job-hunting seemed to be going nowhere fast; if you had asked me at any time I am sure you would understand why 2010, with all its pain and hurt and desperation was clearly my annus horribilis.

But. It wasn't. On the contrary, 2010 has shown itself to be my annus mirabilis, my year of wonder. Because throughout all those troubles I have been accompanied by a host of angels … angels disguised as family or friends, as professionals and experts, as strangers with kind words and acquaintances with kind hearts. And of course those angels disguised with floppy ears and smiley bums.

I also talked to robins and watched jays from beneath my tremble tree, I saw my first ever woodpecker, enjoyed coffee and laughter in Starbucks, sipped tea and slurped jelly in Ikea, relaxed with a glass of wine and the scent of rosemary and jasmine in a beautiful garden, picnicked with flat coke and Walkers cheese and onion in glorious sunshine on a penthouse balcony and guzzled one too many gins on nights out with the rockabillies.

I have laughed in the rain and kissed in the moonlight, marvelled at sunsets and delighted in snowfall. I have read many books, written many words, met new friends and old friends, my first love and the love of my life. I have experienced epiphanies, road to Damascus moments, gestalt and renaissance and I have discarded the useless and discovered the valuable. And yes, I have learned to say yes. Yes to new things, yes to opportunities and yes I am looking forward to the future. (Yes Juicy, you read that right.)

And so here it is. The final installment of the Project: Life Changing blog at blogspot ... with high hopes of a sequel in the not too distant. In the meantime dear readers I thank you. Thank you for your kind words, your blessings, your magic and your support and all the inspiration those things have afforded me.

A very Happy, Hopeful and Prosperous New Year to you all.

Yours in hope & happiness, AJ xx

Misms

I think I may be boring Mr TGTBT. During his last visit we exchanged a few words of the 'words' type and experienced a little of that irritability that healthy relationships sometimes do. As opposed to the aggressively quiet silences of unhealthy relationships (last sentence delivered of course with a wry smile).

Now some of the words caused instant little 'ouches' in my heart and, having learned of late not to let the ouches go unheeded, I duly declared them. Drawing himself up to the full height of his acronym, Mr TGTBT lived up to his name and apologised for ouching me, looking quite mortified that he had done so. Not to be outdone, I in turn apologised for being a little over-sensitive and felt mortified that I had been the cause for such mortification on his part. I think he may well have then apologised for something else, with me following suit. And so on. And so forth. Until we ran out of things to apologise for. It was of course all conducted with the kind of sugar-coated indecency that left us both clearly at risk of hyperglycemic coma, covered in candy coated sweet nothings.

There were however some other words. Not ouchy ones, but 'mism' ones. Words that don't insist on an immediate reaction but that sit around in your head waiting for you to pay attention, having rang a little bell on their way in. They are perfectly happy sitting patiently, humming a little now and then to while away the time ... until a time comes like now, when they have to be processed.

Now Mr TGTBT is, as I have discovered, quite capable of belligerence in his expression but it is more likely the belligerent delivery that causes ouches than any genuine desire to offend. The belligerence is only a result of some momentary emotional chaos, no different to my caustic attitude when moodiness takes over from common sense. With Mr TGTBT, as with me, anything we want to say that we really need the other person to take heed of but that may also be liable to upset them will be delivered with a great dollop of 'mism'ness. You see, Mr TGTBT didn't want to actually say I was boring in case I got upset.

I recall one of my apologies was for talking too much. Which I had been. And with the best will in the world - bearing in mind the emotional turmoil recently experienced - Mr TGTBT didn't stand a chance of understanding my excited gabble. So he merely smiled gently at my apology and said I did sound a little like a 'reformed sinner'. He also kissed me just to be certain there was sufficient mism'ness. Because he's nice like that.

Now. Whilst having a little housekeeping of the mind while relaxing in the bath tonight I came across his mism and picked it up for processing. On doing so I was struck by it's familiarity, the strangest sensation of having coming across this mism before.

Of course I had. In a not very successful attempt at self-delusion I had given the mism to Mr TGTBT in the course of my apology. I may well have apologised for talking too much but deep down knew full well I had been banging on about the benefits of something I have learned (and am in fact still learning) in a desperate attempt to convert him too. Banging on like a reformed sinner. As I was unable to admit to myself the fact I was being boring I gave Mr TGTBT a mism for an apology. A euphemism.

Mr TGTBT just picked up the mism, dusted it off and sent it right back from whence it came, with some care, some love and a desire to be honest without offence. It worked. I now know I was boring but I don't mind. A man with a penchant for misms is a man with a heart ... as seasoned readers will know, it's those with fizms you have to worry about.

Yours in hope, AJ x

Tantrumette

I enjoy blogging best when I am riled up. My blogging muscle seems to come over all re-energised when prodded into action by a bad temper. And tonight I am a right royal grumpig in the foulest of moods, one that has been brewing steadily for the past 48 hours and one which through a variety of techniques I have tried to quell.

Quelling was unsuccessful and in fact seemed to exacerbate the foulness of mood, leading to temper tantrums being directed at various inanimate objects (one book yelled at for falling off the bookshelf, two doors kicked for closing when I wanted them to remain open and a t-shirt that came within in inch of a new life as a duster after getting tangled up with tights in the wash basket).

During a slightly more reasonable moment I tried to establish the reasons behind bad mood. At least I thought it was a more reasonable moment until I produced the following spectacularly ridiculous reasons: -

1. There is no chocolate in the house.
2. That Mr TGTBT lives some annoying 40 miles away so someone to send out for chocolate totally inaccesible when required.
3. That Mr TGTBT is evidently not TGTBT otherwise he would have known I would need chocolate and hidden some in a cupboard for me during his last visit.

The next reason was actually quite reasonable:-

4. That I have horrid abdominal cramps and a pain that feel like rats are gnawing away at my insides.

And then I returned to the ridiculous reasons:-

5. Mr TGTBT lives some freakin' annoying 40 miles away so I will have to get my own hot water bottle.

Reason number 4 gives the game away. The only reason any of the reasons seemed even vaguely acceptable at the time is because nature decrees that PMT and logic are incompatible so you can't have both at the same time. A clear case of either or. Which is evidence enough if needed that our creator is indeed of the male persuasion. No female would have dreamt of creating such a foolish - and dare I say scarily dangerous - combination.

Unless of course there was no chocolate in the house and she had to get her own hot water bottle.

Yours in hope (with a little bit of 'grrrr' thrown in for good measure), AJ x

Type Cast

It appears I have regained some blogging mojo and I have been having endless discussions with myself about what to write about and what not to write about. It seemed easy to write when driven by a somewhat maniacal urge to try and make sense of what was happening to me but now I have arrived at a place where my sense of things is more peaceful I feel quite shy. Very self-conscious. I have a niggling concern that a more contented blogger may be a more boring blogger.

Nonetheless I will persevere - at least I will tonight, for my fingers are itching to dance on this here keyboard. And for those still reading now seems a good a time as any to deliver an update on Project:Life Changing. Well. Here goes:

Learning to drive? On hold.
Thinking thin? Plateaued.
Considering a career? Downsized to get a job.
Getting out more? Dwindling now the nights are drawing in and the money needs drawing out due to career status.

From that seemingly disappointing scenario it suggests Project:Life Changing has been abandoned, or at the very least is languishing in a corner somewhere, awaiting further instructions. And with such an apparent lack of progress it is perhaps no wonder the blog hasn't been anything to write home about either.

There have been voices of discontent; Mr TGTBT has dropped gentle (and even not so gentle but still sweetly delivered nonetheless) hints that it might be about time I got back into the blog; H has all but given up on asking me diplomatically if I have any updates; Pagan Queen went one step further and even began working on his own blog. But one voice was louder than them all and much less encouraging. That was the voice in my head that was smugly pointing out I have just reverted to type.

That nasty little voice was thoroughly enjoying my discomfort, sniggering at the fact I had failed, failed, failed and failed. In that order. A little jeering "told you so". And until yesterday, I thought that voice belonged to me. But it doesn't. It was put there by someone else. So I punched it's lights out.

Now my holding, plateauing, downsizing and dwindling may well be reverting to type. But 'reverting to type' is merely a crass attempt at using words to wound, implying that the 'type' referred to is somewhat less than desirable. So no, I haven't 'reverted to type' I have finally however, thankfully, rediscovered myself. And myself has been slogging away on achieving objectives fundamentally more important and definitely more elusive - belief in my own values and my right to apply them not only to others but to myself.

It is easy to look at others in trouble, pain, fear or sadness and reach out to comfort them. If you discover someone who is trembling and disquieted because they have received some upsetting news, your natural instinct is to reassure and calm them, offer them some tea and sympathy and encourage them to rest, reflect and regroup. Strange how we tend to treat ourselves differently.

I have found myself in just such a situation on numerous occasions in recent months and whilst those around me speak kind words, that nasty voice in my head just berated me for being silly, weak, ineffectual and plain old-fashioned no good. Which is why the voice had to go.

So now I am filling the vacancy. With me and my values. The practical aspects of Project: Life Changing still need addressing ... they may have been initiated for all the wrong reasons but they are still valid for a whole bunch of practical and healthy reasons. Only now the only person I have to answer to is myself. And I am far more patient and understanding than that recently departed little voice.

Project: Life Changing is still on track, only now it is following my directions, no-one else's.

Yours in hope, AJ x


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How Do You Like Them Apples?

Now this blog could perhaps be as dull as dishwater for many of you. Or perhaps it might make you grimace and cringe. But just maybe it will resonate with someone, just enough to prevent another soul going through the same self-loathing and self-destructive patterns I have experienced. Perhaps even those that Him F. has experienced too. And those of Mr TGTBT. Maybe even FEW. Or even Her. Because whichever side of the following equation someone may have the misfortune to be on, it is not a happy place.

I have been seeing a counsellor. Trying to get to the root of my sometimes almost crippling lack of self belief. And I've always regarded myself as reasonably emotionally intelligent, dabbling here and there trying to understand what makes myself and other people tick. Usually quite forgiving of other's behaviours in the end, and particularly so if I deduce an emotional reason for them. I understand - albeit to date quite inadequately - that most of my bad behaviours also spring from some emotional well or other so I find it easy to accept it is the same for other people.

Today's session with my counsellor was indeed a revelation as she mentioned a term that I have heard of but never understood, never felt the need to. Never seen the need to because I have been blinded and side-swiped by its very existence. The counsellor began by asking if I felt I had been the victim of abuse. I laughed. I began to think 'uh-oh' here we go, liberal-lefty approach to everything being someone else's fault and no-one taking personal responsibility for their situation or actions.

I most certainly had no desire to play the victim in any greater way than I currently feel, as the victim of a horrible set of circumstances. Anyway, Him F. wasn't that bad. Was he? I well know, as many of you will have heard me state, much of the failure of my relationship with Him F. was my fault.

But. I am polite. Willing to learn. So I listened to what the counsellor had to say. And as I listened and questioned I experienced one of those OMG moments as more scales fell from my ever widening eyes, along with more tears. I have struggled to understand how and why Him F. did - and continues - to treat me so spitefully and coldly. No compassion, no residual affection for anything we had in the past 15 years.

The reason I couldn't understand it was because I persisted in looking to myself for the answers, blaming myself for so much while remaining unaware of exactly what I had been up against and subjected to. I was up against - and here comes the term - someone who suffers from a passive-aggressive personality disorder. And the passive aggressive is a master of covert abuse.

Two major issues I had in my relationship with Him F. were a) lack of physical intimacy and b) his inability to express any anger or dissatisfaction. Now if you pootle off and Google passive-aggressive (as I did) you will discover (as I did) that those two issues are symptomatic of such a personality. Their inability to express (b) results in them using (a) as a punishment.

Passive aggressives are masters and mistresses of a particularly underhand kind of deceit and emotional abuse. Most likely also deceiving themselves as convincingly as they do their partner. These masters and mistresses project satisfaction and will happily spend the day with their other half, appearing as if all is well with the world. On special occasions there might be days out together, eating, laughing, visiting places of personal interest and meaning and generally having a quite wonderful time.

With so much apparent happiness in the air it can be quite confusing when, at the end of a beautiful day, the most affection the passive aggressive can stretch to is perhaps a cuddle and a cat-bottom kiss. So what is the problem?

The problem is, things were bothering the passive aggressive. But their inability to express them, to spell out whatever had upset or angered them - be it the expense of the day, something their partner had said or done or just something they themselves felt inside - means that instead of confronting their partner with the issue they will instead mete out some kind of punishment. A punishment that is arguably difficult to declare as such and punishment for something they themselves weren't willing (or for the benefit of the doubt, able) to express.

Towards the end of my relationship with Him F. it is likely he was perpetually punishing me for all the perceived slights and wrongs and injustices he had received from me over the years. He had been unable to address them in a healthy way because he was too frightened to confront his own deep-rooted fear ... his inability to express his negative emotions, like anger or distress. His inability and unwillingness to communicate his feelings adequately.

And what's more, the passive aggressive punishment is so covert, it enables them to display quite believeable astonishment if anyone should suggest they were engaging in such unpleasant behaviour. Punishment so underhand, so reliant on the complicity of the one being punished that they can retain their 'good guy/sweet girl' image, once again avoiding the need for any emotional honesty.

A lack of physical intimacy from a passive aggressive will be dressed up under the titles of 'too tired', 'a little unwell' or 'stressed from work' And not once in a while - we all get tired, unwell or stressed now and again - but persistently. In my case about 8 years of persistence; me asking what the problem was, him saying there wasn't one. So of course, I did what I am sure thousands of men and women have done, and continue to do. I made it all about me. I was too fat/too ugly/too demanding. And when emotionally shattered from that continual self-abuse I would give myself a break by accepting his excuses and be all understanding about how tired/ill/stressed he was.

The passive aggressive will usually form relationships with people who have low self-esteem or those who find it easy to excuse other's bad behaviours. Playing the role of committed, adoring and loving partner but in reality unable to form a real and honest emotional connection with their significant other.

Absolving themselves of any personal responsibility, when finally forced to confront the problems in the relationship they will have prepared their escape plans and just withdraw completely. They will leave with their skewed sense of reality allowing them to deny any wrong-doing and lay the blame at someone else's door. In a slippery distortion of the facts their dysfunctional emotional behaviour has probably driven the other person to bad behaviours too, and to distraction, to distress, and to displays of anger and irritation. All of which neatly ticks a box in passive aggressive's warped view ... 'look how awful she/he is. Look at what I have had to put up with. Is it any wonder I am leaving them?'. Tick.

My former passive aggressive has withdrawn so wholly, extricated himself so completely from the familial and social settings he was part of for 15 years, that it is unlikely he will ever have to face the true reality. No-one will be able to hold up the mirror for him to take that long, hard look. A look at the hurt, pain, sadness, confusion and distress his actions and behaviour has wrought. Not just on me but on many others who welcomed him into their world to share in their lives and all the celebrations and heartbreak the years have delivered. Those many others to whom he has shown neither the courtesy, kindness or grace to offer even the smallest of goodbyes to.

This may all sound a tad unbelievable ... it does to me and I have lived it, so I can fully appreciate the sense of disbelief others may have. But Him F. has indeed walked away and closed down 15 years of connections in the blink of an eye and continues to blame me for it. I know he has managed to convince himself - because he has told me so - that he dealt with things in the best way possible. And yes, for the passive aggressive it was. No confrontation, no emotions to deal with, just (self) justifiable actions. Those of us he left behind had just a sense of shock and so many unanswered questions. Until today. Now I understand that while all may appear well with that passive aggressive's world view, I am as lucky as I am relieved to no longer be a part of it.

But above all, though I have some serious personal issues to address as to why I allowed myself to accept such behaviours for so long and with such devastating consequences, I am happy to have finally discovered that I am not such a bad apple after all.

Perhaps a little bruised but certainly not rotten, I am now the apple of someone else's eye. A delightfully, delicious, emotionaI windfall. A little bit sweet and a lot bit fruity.

Yours in hope with fear gone, AJ x

Girly Swot

Boo! (AJ chuckles to self). Bet you didn't see that coming. But hey, absence makes the heart grow fonder ... evidenced by the fact that Mr TGTBT is perilously close to being accorded the status of demi-God through the geographic/domestic/employment induced absences that are currently an inevitable part and parcel of our relationship. Well. That and his gobsmackingly endless loveliness. And on that nauseatingly enamoured note, I'll move on. But. Talking of nausea....

The tears, snot and nausea stages which Mr TGTBT promised me are now, today, coming to an end. It is a welcome end, albeit to the most curiously painful yet awe-inspiring chapter of my life. One that in retrospect I have enjoyed immensely and in some perverse way will actually be sad to say goodbye to.

Yes. You did read that right. I have enjoyed it. I know as a rule I am pretty down on hindsight, but, coupled with a few tricks picked up from years of working with PR types, it does enhance my ability to put a positive spin on just about anything. Eventually. And getting there - however eventually that may be - is all that matters.

Right now I am feeling terribly proud of me and my eventualiness. I did it. That is me, with a capital 'I'. I have hurt, I have been comforted, I have been given advice, I have listened, I have taken three steps forward, I have taken five steps back, I have sometimes paused. I have kept walking. I have sometimes been blind-sided, I have opened my eyes, I have looked around me, I have searched inside myself. I have turned my back on some things and I have faced the inevitable. Above all, I have learned.

I learned that none of us can ever actually stop learning. We just do so either willingly or unwillingly. Every experience in life - be it good, bad or just downright ugly - is a just a little box of learning, delivered to us at times in our life when we may have ceased to think we need it. I was delivered a whole stack of little learning boxes in one go and my initial reaction was to mark them 'address unknown, return to sender'. 'Twould seem, however, that curiosity got the better of me.

I opened up my boxes and before I knew what had happened was caught up in a desperate and feverish frenzy of swotting. I instinctively knew there was a lesson to be learned and yet couldn't seem to work it out. I was willing, so I thought, but not able. I would be elated to make sense of part of the lesson only to be bought back down to earth with a nasty bump on discovering it didn't fit with the rest of the curriculum.

After much elation and many bumps, slowly, surely - and eventually - it began to make sense. This was no hum-drum curriculum, it was far, far more important. The course I was delivered for 2010 was a key module in my curriculum vitae, my course of life.

Life of course is the greatest of all teachers, endlessly handing out the the most curiously painful yet awe-inspiring lessons we could ever hope to learn from. And like a right little teacher's pet, I am going to keep swotting.

Yours in hope & fear, AJ x

Snort For The Day ...

Blimey. Aren't people emotionally complicated? Me? Generally happy as a pig in doo-doo and yet within minutes can feel my whole world is about to fall apart again. And this would be because Mr TGTBT has a Future Ex Wife (FEW) who decided she no longer wanted him, yet on discovering Mr TGTBT has found someone else, she came over all dog in a manger and threw a FEW titchy hissy fit in my direction.

Which in turn got Mr TGTBT all in a stew (see, he's not THAT good) and griping about FEW even though he says he is generally happy as a pig in doo-doo too. Attempting to reverse Mr TGTBT's stewing tendency was too much like hard work so I skulked off and started a little bit of wuthering, which included wondering on whether Him F. is a happy pig with Her.

And then I start coming over all vengeful and hoping Him F. just has total crap and no cheery doo because my doo-doo is looking a little bleaker than it did before the FEW threw Mr TGTBT into a stew. Which is odd, because I am meant to be as happy as a pig in doo-doo and not care about stuff like that.

Just like FEW is meant to be a happy little hog that she got rid of the man she didn't want (and who incidentally is treating her with ultimately more respect than I get from Him F. so FEW should be like totally grateful).

Just like Her should be a happy snorker at having got her trotters into Him F. but bangs about being bitter about the fact I still actually exist. And Him F? Well, he displays scant evidence of being a happy little grunter because he is so busy still being pissed off at me.

How peculiar. A bunch of people who have got what they want but still being ever such a bit silly about it all. But I guess if you're happy as a pig in a big pile of shit it's inevitable you'll get tempted by a little muck raking now and again.

Yours in hope & fear, AJ x