Another step taken...

Well, today was very productive. The Bear and I went into the city centre and he took me to the courts to have my affidavit signed. The affidavit is to say that everything in my divorce submission is true and accurate, and to add one small amendment that his solicitors have insisted upon. This, along with my recent bank statements is now in the hands of my solicitor.

I now play the waiting game while my solicitor sorts the paperwork then applies to the courts for Special Procedures to get my decree nisi. The bank statements were so financial details can be exchanged as well so the settlement can be worked on. An application to the courts for the financial side of things will be made at the same time as the divorce submission. Hopefully it will mean things will start getting sorted fairly soon.

I did feel a slight case of the jitters when getting everything signed and sworn, because it feels like the last act of giving up on a marriage that I wanted to work, and one that I put a lot into. It is now 9 years and a month or so since we met, and for 7 of those years I put up with a lot. I did my best to ignore the little incidences of found-out-lies and to move on, but it was hard. It still is hard for me, because while part of me wants nothing more to do with him, there is still a small part that does still care. I wish there wasn't, because it would make things so much easier.

My depression would be easier to treat if I could hate him. My PTSD wouldn't be so severe if I could really see him completely as the monster he became. My dreams wouldn't turn into nightmares if I could just forget all about him and move on.

I can't.

I can't even contemplate sharing my house with anyone on a permanent basis ever again. I wouldn't trust anyone not to turn into another monster. I don't function well in crowds. I have difficulty trusting new people I meet. I have trouble even socialising with the Bear sometimes because I want to switch off and just be on my own. It's horrible for my Bear to have to be on the receiving end of my insecurities and mental illnesses because he is such a patient and understanding chap. It makes me feel guilty that I cannot be completely at ease with him all the time.

Well, we shall see how things progress once the divorce is out of the way.

In other news, while in the city, we went to the rag market. I now have material for a skirt and top that I have to make for a customer. I also have steel boning to re-do another top of hers that has really flimsy boning in and it won't stay put. I managed to get some hessian for corset lining too, as a lot of period corsets used hessian instead of canvas for stiffening. The Bear got some material for britches for his 17th century costume and I browsed possibles for a dress for me for next season. I also managed to pick up a lovely velvet remnant which should make a nice 17th century corset bodice. The Bear will be repaid once I have the first garment made and paid for.

I'm busy in a slow way. I am not churning out lots and lots of clothes and raking in the cash. I have so far managed to earn 45 quid for some alterations done, and that's over the last 6 months. Hardly call to order my personalised Bentley yet! I do have a few jobs pending though, and I should be able to keep busy over the winter. I have three dresses to make before Christmas and have been asked to make the soldiers' coats for the new 17th century regimental kit for our regiment. They supply the material and I just make it up. Simple really, but not a huge earner yet again. I have a couple more enquiries pending, so we shall see how it goes.

The slow pace of the work is actually quite suitable for me, since some days I know I can't go near the machine lest I make 16 million major fuck-ups in the first hour and spend the rest of the day unpicking things. Having such a long lead time on garments means I can go at my own pace to a certain extent and make sure I get everything done right. I can still do a decent turnaround if I need to: I know that, as most things will only take a day's worth of work to do, so if I say a week, I can get away with an hour or so a day working on it.

Ah well, I was going to bed an hour ago because of a stinky headache. I was hoping the painkillers I took would have kicked in by now, but brufen really aren't cutting it today. I may have to rummage and see if there is anything else in the house that might mean I can sleep tonight without lying awake wishing my headache would sod off...

One Life...

We only get one shot at life. We make friends, some casual, some good, some falling into the best category. We do our best for our friends and treat them as family.

I am feeling a bit numb at the moment. One of my best friends phoned me on Friday to tell me some very bad news. He has cancer. It is inoperable. The best he can hope for with medical intervention is to prolong his life by I don't know how long. Without the intervention, he possibly won't see this Christmas.

We spoke about it, and his view is that if the medical intervention will give him an extra 6 months of quality life, then he will take it. If it will mean six months of pain, humiliation and being confined to a hospital bed, he has decided not to bother. I agree with him completely. A selfish side of me wanted him to do whatever it takes to stay on this earth for as long as possible, but the compassionate side of me that cares so much about him says that I would rather he didn't have to suffer a prolonged life that had no quality to it.

He has been my friend for 9 years now, and it is difficult for me to contemplate that it will not be ten, then eleven and so on. I am trying to come to terms with the fact that in a while I will never be able to phone him up for a chat. I won't be able to hug him and be hugged back by him. I will never hear him calling me "Mother" again after he is gone.

Time now is precious. I won't treat him any differently because of his illness, but I will be offering to do whatever I can to help. If he had any other problems, I would be doing the same.

I can't even begin to contemplate how he must be feeling, knowing what is coming. I will just be there for him as his friend. It is all I can really do, and I will do it with a willingness because he is a wonderful person whose friendship I value.

We take so much for granted. So many times we don't know what we have until it is gone. My friend is someone I value, and I hope he knows it. I know what I have in his friendship, and I will miss him like hell when he is no longer around. In the meantime, I will be making the most of the time left to us.

If he lasts another four years, I will still count each day as a blessing. He currently has four months. Every day is precious. We have one life. We must live it and help others to live theirs too. We must be there for our friends and weather whatever life may throw at us.

One life. Live it.

An insight...

I thought I would share an insight into the debilitating effects of my illness. I have severe depression at the moment combined with PTSD. Today has not been a good day.

I had a nightmare last night. In it, I was here in my house, and then Paul turned up, came stright into my house as if he owned the place and would not leave. I told him to get out several times, and eventually he replied that I had not asked nicely enough. By this point, he was sitting comfortably in my living room. I asked him nicely if he would please leave, at which point, he smirked and said no. I was in a right state by this point, wanting him to get out of my house and as far away from me as possible, and his response to that was to grab me and slap me. Hard. At that point, I went out into my garden, waiting for the Bear. Paul followed and sat next to me on my bench. The Bear pulled up in his car and came up next-door's steps with a wire shopping basket with stuff in it. He didn't acknowledge me or Paul sitting in the garden, and at that point, I fell to pieces.

And then woke up.

All day (gradually getting worse until late afternoon and then falling off again) I have thad that "monsters under the bed" feeling. You know, the one you had as a kid when you KNEW something was going to reach out and grab you from underneath before you got into bed. The one that made you leap into bed from a distance, or hurry to get onto the bed and under the covers to be safe from the questing fingers of the monster.

I have had the feeling that I am going to go to the hall, and he will be there, standing in the middle of it. I have had the feeling that he will walk round the corner towards me when I am in my garden. I feel that I will turn round and he will be there. It makes me afraid of being in my own house. It makes me terrified of going outside. I get panicky and feel sick. I shake and have trouble thinking straight. I become paralysed with fear. I daren't even get undressed and have a shower, because I feel too vulnerable being naked.

On the plus side, it's cut down my smoking a hell of a lot, since I can't always step outside my front door and I refuse to smoke in the house because it smells awful.

I'm just hoping for a peaceful night tonight. If not, I shall be getting the Bear to accompany me to the doctors to get some more tranquilisers.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I wish I could take a holiday from being me. It would be nice to be able to step away from the mess in my head, but that's not really possible. I'm sick of being in this mess, and right now I'm getting really dragged down by it.

I've now got to the point where I have considered deleting a load of friends off Facebook, just because they are part of a life I can no longer live. I can't socialise with a group of my friends simply because Paul is still part of the group. I can't look at photographs of Beltring in case I come across a pic of him enjoying himself as part of the group.

I feel like I am going to have to excise all the years with him out of my life, and since the last 18 months have been a bit of a non-event, that makes a total of 9 years and 29 days that I have to cut away from. I can't do it. I wish I could, but I can't pretend that the time didn't happen. I can't magically make it all disappear.

Perhaps some day it won't matter any more. I could do with that day being today, but sadly it isn't.

Dressmaking and other stuff

So, I've been busy dressmaking. Not for any particular reason. It's just because I can and because I have nothing really much better to do. I have a lot of material and haven't been doing anything with it, so I dug out some and started pinning it to my tailors' dummy. I've already posted the pics here...

Now, my problem with all this is that I love the design stage, because it's all creative and stuff, but then I have to put it all together. Sooo, clever me decided to hide the zip in the latest frock, and jeez, what a headache that has been. It took me nearly an hour to work out how it all goes together and to get the zip ready for insertion into the lining and dress. I've had to use a placket (technical term for the extra bits of material inside the back closure) to get it in the right place and now I have to work out how it's all got to go together. Fun. It'll be great when it's finished though and I can start on my next one. I already have bits of it pinned to the mannequin despite not having all of the first one unpinned from it...

It's been a funny day really. Not in the amusing sense, but in the odd sense.

This morning I woke up feeling good, which was unexpected because I felt like hell yesterday- I was really sicky and headachy and barely managed to get out of bed before heading back there again. So this morning I got up and decided to get stuff done. I managed to cut the lining for my dress, then went to get some shopping, since the cupboards were looking a bit bare. It started to rain on the way back, but I didn't mind. The Bear came to meet me and helped carry the shopping home- a good thing since a third of it was heavy, heavy cat food.

Anyway, got in, had some fodder and a cuppa, then was having cuddles with the Bear when everything went wrong.

I felt like I was in the wrong place with the wrong person: I wanted to be home with Paul, with him hugging me, not here with the Bear. Then I realised I didn't want to be with Paul, then did, then didn't, then couldn't cope with ANYONE touching me. I felt really bad because I pulled away from the Bear in tears and couldn't explain why. I felt like it would be really hurtful for him to have to hear that I had wanted to be with Paul again, even if it was only a fleeting feeling, but I know the Bear and know he would understand, but couldn't work out how to say anything and the confusion and remembered feeling of being hugged by Paul meant I felt I couldn't be touched. Not by anyone.

I had to go outside and try to calm down for a bit before I could say anything to the Bear about what had happened. He was very understanding, as he always is, and told me it wasn't my fault. From my point of view, it's not the Bear's fault either, but he's still having to bear the brunt of the emotional crises that I have. He has to put up with being pushed away. He has to put up with me being an emotional wreck when something triggers my reactions. He's the one that has to put me back together when I fall apart. He's the one that has to encourage me to keep going when all I want to do is curl up in a corner.

My Bear is fantastic. How he puts up with all this, I don't know, but all he keeps saying is "It's not your fault, and one day you'll be able to deal with all these things and have your life back".

That's why I want to get this latest dress off the machine and onto a hanger. I want to get my creative head working on the next one, because then I stop thinking about other things for a while and really feel free. I get happy and excited when I create and it spills over into the rest of my time. The Bear loves watching me as I work, fascinated that I can just pin and cut without using patterns, just seeing what I want it to look like in my head and making it like that. It will also give me a sense of achievement that even though I have been having a rough time of late, I can still make something beautiful and worthwhile. It gives me purpose and meaning in an otherwise quite uninteresting life.