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
Sunday, 24 October 2010
Friday, 22 October 2010
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
.
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
.
Wednesday, 20 October 2010
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
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
Monday, 4 October 2010
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
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
Thursday, 16 September 2010
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
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
Friday, 10 September 2010
Fit For Purpose
Mr TGTBT might hate this blog. Might cringe a little. And will definitely have to endure copious amounts of piss-taking from his colleagues. However. The anecdote needs to be shared.
One evening we were sat talking, something we both do very well and that has been a bit of a feature since Talking Shop. When we get going it's not just donkeys that need to keep an eye on their hind legs - ponies, horses and quite possibly even unicorns would do well to give us a wide berth. Anyway, this particular evening Mr TGTBT came clean out with something I had noticed him trying to disguise with self-deprecating comments on other occasions. Comments I told him were ridiculous.
During previous conversations I have told Mr TGTBT that Him played football twice a week - in the context of me griping about having to eat pasta every ruddy Tuesday and every ruddy Thursday, every ruddy frickin' week. The only time off I had from the tedious carbohydrate repetition was during the weeks when Him had sprained an ankle or pulled a muscle or whatever else it is that sporty types do when they get things wrong. And during the conversation with Mr TGTBT on the evening in question, I was talking about Him's visit on the previous day to collect some paperwork and his rowing machine.
Now Mr TGTBT had quite rightly deduced that Him is of the fitness variety and therefore must be 'quite buff and toned', I think that was his phrase. Again, brilliantly deduced insofar as yes, Him is quite obsessive about his fitness. (Fitness for not very much if you ask me, but as an end in itself it seemed to make Him happy.) In some muddled way it spilled out that Mr TGTBT had been doing the math in his head and also deduced that, by comparison, he might not be such an attractive physical specimen.
And yes, Mr TGTBT you might be right. If one wants a physical specimen. (Which sounds a lot like wanting Fizms to me.) But Mr TGTBT you are monumentally wrong if one wants someone who is attractive. Someone whose beauty is more than skin deep. I spent years with someone whose calf muscles were as hard as his heart, whose biceps were as big as the space between his ears and whose legs would run for miles when his soul couldn't take a single step in the right direction. The only person whose breath Him wanted to take away was his own.
I want to spend the rest of my years with someone who will take my breath away. Someone whose arms are strong enough to hold me tight but as gentle and warm as his heart. Someone who can exercise his brain as well as his right to be fallible and someone who can walk to the ends of the earth for those he loves and never look back in anger. Someone whose soul, without fear and without reservation, is fit enough to take on the challenge of sharing itself with another. An outrageously, unconsciously, beautifully, attractive someone. A someone that begins with Mister and ends in TGTBT.
And if - as the case may be - that supremely attractive someone also happens to have calf muscles somewhat better toned than mine, well, I can live with that. Because beauty is only skin deep and my stockings can hide a multitude of sins.
Yours in hope & fear, AJ x
One evening we were sat talking, something we both do very well and that has been a bit of a feature since Talking Shop. When we get going it's not just donkeys that need to keep an eye on their hind legs - ponies, horses and quite possibly even unicorns would do well to give us a wide berth. Anyway, this particular evening Mr TGTBT came clean out with something I had noticed him trying to disguise with self-deprecating comments on other occasions. Comments I told him were ridiculous.
During previous conversations I have told Mr TGTBT that Him played football twice a week - in the context of me griping about having to eat pasta every ruddy Tuesday and every ruddy Thursday, every ruddy frickin' week. The only time off I had from the tedious carbohydrate repetition was during the weeks when Him had sprained an ankle or pulled a muscle or whatever else it is that sporty types do when they get things wrong. And during the conversation with Mr TGTBT on the evening in question, I was talking about Him's visit on the previous day to collect some paperwork and his rowing machine.
Now Mr TGTBT had quite rightly deduced that Him is of the fitness variety and therefore must be 'quite buff and toned', I think that was his phrase. Again, brilliantly deduced insofar as yes, Him is quite obsessive about his fitness. (Fitness for not very much if you ask me, but as an end in itself it seemed to make Him happy.) In some muddled way it spilled out that Mr TGTBT had been doing the math in his head and also deduced that, by comparison, he might not be such an attractive physical specimen.
And yes, Mr TGTBT you might be right. If one wants a physical specimen. (Which sounds a lot like wanting Fizms to me.) But Mr TGTBT you are monumentally wrong if one wants someone who is attractive. Someone whose beauty is more than skin deep. I spent years with someone whose calf muscles were as hard as his heart, whose biceps were as big as the space between his ears and whose legs would run for miles when his soul couldn't take a single step in the right direction. The only person whose breath Him wanted to take away was his own.
I want to spend the rest of my years with someone who will take my breath away. Someone whose arms are strong enough to hold me tight but as gentle and warm as his heart. Someone who can exercise his brain as well as his right to be fallible and someone who can walk to the ends of the earth for those he loves and never look back in anger. Someone whose soul, without fear and without reservation, is fit enough to take on the challenge of sharing itself with another. An outrageously, unconsciously, beautifully, attractive someone. A someone that begins with Mister and ends in TGTBT.
And if - as the case may be - that supremely attractive someone also happens to have calf muscles somewhat better toned than mine, well, I can live with that. Because beauty is only skin deep and my stockings can hide a multitude of sins.
Yours in hope & fear, AJ x
Thursday, 9 September 2010
More's The Pity
I am crying again. For fuck's sake. Analysing it as I do, between sobs, it would appear this is a mixed up session. Some of the tears because I hurt, and some because I am so bloody angry and frustrated at not being able to wring Him Formerly's cold-blooded neck and put him out of his hate-fuelled misery.
I have in the past two days received two communications from Him Formerly. Him Formerly who persists in griping and complaining and bitching about his lot when he is the one who ordered in his lot. Now he has moved on to making side swipes at me, childish, spiteful and unnecessary - all because he is incapable of engaging in a sensible conversation about how to resolve the practicalities of the relationship break-up. At least without having Her in his ear, changing his mind as regularly as the rest of us change TV channels.
Him Formerly is no more. There isn't anything I formerly knew remaining and I actually no longer know who - or what - he is. Though evidently he is an attractive proposition to Her I really don't see what that attraction could be. How can you get excited about sharing your life with a man who is too weak to acknowledge his contribution to a relationship break-up, a man who perpetually blames his ex for all the troubles in his life and takes no personal responsibility, a man who has lied, cheated, deceived and then, when his partner was already just about broken, threw in a few more below the belt punches to try and finish her off.
Him clearly has a default setting of cold. Cold-hearted and cold-blooded. (I am minded to consider the possibility that Her gets a cheap thrill from dabbling with something so dangerous ... she probably snacks on blowfish and drives with her eyes shut just for the hell of it.) And that coldness has imbued Him with the ability to turn hating me into an art form of quite disturbing proportions, albeit leaving me strangely flattered at my own ability to arouse quite so much emotion.
Because for me, hating Him is not something I feel inclined to do. I am angry at the way he tries to make me feel wholly responsible for his pain. I am frustrated by his petulance and inability to address the difficulties created by the break up with some degree of feeling for the times we shared that were good. But most of all I pity Him.
Him was once sharing his life with someone who loved him well and would have loved him until the end of days, even - much to my chagrin at such stupidity - paying the price of her own inner happiness to do so. But Him could never see it. And to be unable to see love when it is given so unconditionally is nothing but pitiful, more so perhaps is the inability to accept it.
So asking myself to hate Him would be like asking myself to hate a blind man because he can't see the stars. More's the pity that Him does it so well.
Yours in hope & fear, AJ x
I have in the past two days received two communications from Him Formerly. Him Formerly who persists in griping and complaining and bitching about his lot when he is the one who ordered in his lot. Now he has moved on to making side swipes at me, childish, spiteful and unnecessary - all because he is incapable of engaging in a sensible conversation about how to resolve the practicalities of the relationship break-up. At least without having Her in his ear, changing his mind as regularly as the rest of us change TV channels.
Him Formerly is no more. There isn't anything I formerly knew remaining and I actually no longer know who - or what - he is. Though evidently he is an attractive proposition to Her I really don't see what that attraction could be. How can you get excited about sharing your life with a man who is too weak to acknowledge his contribution to a relationship break-up, a man who perpetually blames his ex for all the troubles in his life and takes no personal responsibility, a man who has lied, cheated, deceived and then, when his partner was already just about broken, threw in a few more below the belt punches to try and finish her off.
Him clearly has a default setting of cold. Cold-hearted and cold-blooded. (I am minded to consider the possibility that Her gets a cheap thrill from dabbling with something so dangerous ... she probably snacks on blowfish and drives with her eyes shut just for the hell of it.) And that coldness has imbued Him with the ability to turn hating me into an art form of quite disturbing proportions, albeit leaving me strangely flattered at my own ability to arouse quite so much emotion.
Because for me, hating Him is not something I feel inclined to do. I am angry at the way he tries to make me feel wholly responsible for his pain. I am frustrated by his petulance and inability to address the difficulties created by the break up with some degree of feeling for the times we shared that were good. But most of all I pity Him.
Him was once sharing his life with someone who loved him well and would have loved him until the end of days, even - much to my chagrin at such stupidity - paying the price of her own inner happiness to do so. But Him could never see it. And to be unable to see love when it is given so unconditionally is nothing but pitiful, more so perhaps is the inability to accept it.
So asking myself to hate Him would be like asking myself to hate a blind man because he can't see the stars. More's the pity that Him does it so well.
Yours in hope & fear, AJ x
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