Every Day The Same

Confusion

2010-11-25T10:50:00.003Z

It's been a while since I wrote anything. I've thought about it, then decided not to, for whatever reasons. I'm only writing this now to try and get things straight in my mind, and perhaps let people understand what's going on in my head at the moment.

It's very simple and very complicated both at the same time.

First of all, I want to go home. Simple enough, till you take into account the reason I left. Home in this case is the house in Andover I shared with my husband. I suppose it is the familiarity of the place that makes me miss it, even though I have been in my current place for a year and a half. Perhaps it is because it is rented that it doesn't feel like my real home and maybe, if I can get my own place, things will get better. For the moment though, it doesn't take away the feelings I have of wanting to be back where I had friends, things to do, places to go, prospects of work and so on.

Secondly, and the more difficult thing to get my head round, is the fact that I want my husband. I miss him so very much and feel lonely without him. I married him because I loved him and wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Sadly, his personality changed (or perhaps reverted) and he was no longer the sweetheart who swept me off my feet and asked me to marry him after only three weeks of us knowing each other. I had that for over a year- the loving, protective and wonderful man that I still wish I was with. I miss the feel of his skin, the touch of his hand, snuggling up to him in bed at night, the smell of his aftershave and his little habits that were so endearing.

I don't miss the arguments, the humiliation, the being ignored and the pain.

I can't live with him, but it's feeling increasingly difficult to live without him.

He's started haunting my dreams again. In my dreams I want to run to him and hold him, but can't. It's the fear that stops me, but I long for him. In my dreams he goes from loving to monster in an instant, something that happened in reality over time so I can't even tell you where it all started. It's like a beautiful tiger- you want to pet and cuddle it, but it's too dangerous. I want to love and care for my husband, but he is too dangerous for me.

I admit it- I still love him as much as I did when I married him. That's my problem. I can't stop loving him despite what he has done, and I know I can no longer face him. I have been able to face him, and I spoke to him once upon a time, but I later found out what he was saying behind my back and the cruelty of it crushed me to a point where I can no longer even think of him without pain.

My greatest difficulty now is to keep going every day. I don't feel like I am anyone's special someone. Friends are fantastic and keep telling me that I am not alone, but I look around my house and there is no one there. There is no one I can just drop round to have a cuppa with. There is no one just dropping by here and telling me to get the kettle on. People tell me I must go and visit them, but I don't have the finances to do it. I haven't had a holiday since Christmas 2008, although I have been to Wales a couple of times, and down to see another friend, but those were babysitting exercises, not holidays.

I don't know what I want. I think that's a lot of my problem. I'm confused and very tired, as the dreams wake me up in a panic. I still have problems going out, even when I know I have to, like today. I should be taking a repeat prescription request in to my doctor, but I know I can't go out just like that. I just feel like he is going to turn up and try and speak to me. I know in my sensible moments that he isn't actually that bothered, and wouldn't come all the way up here, but it doesn't stop the monsters under the bed.

All I want to do is sleep without dreams, go out without my anxiety making my life hell and to stop loving the man that no longer exists in the body of my husband. It would be easier if he was dead, but I wouldn't wish that on anyone other than myself. Today I would quite happily go to sleep without dreams and not wake up unless I could forget the last ten years.

I've always said I never regret anything in my life because it's brought me to where I am now, but I have changed my mind. I regret meeting the man who is still my husband simply because my mind is no longer stable enough to have any kind of normal life. The long-term prognosis is that I will be prone to the depression and anxiety for the rest of my life although there is a chance of recovery from the way I am now. There is no timescale for that and it could be months or years before I can function normally again.

Sometimes I'm just not sure I want to live like this any longer. I'm doing my best though and I'm still here for now.

More lucky white heather...

2009-12-07T11:17:00.002Z

So just as I was getting over the D&V bug, I caught a cold. It persisted for over a week then decided to give me a chest infection. That is now just on its way out, but I am now having agoraphobia issues again. I am also skint.

The job centre have, in their infinite wisdom, asked for another medical certificate after telling me I didn't need any more. Because I haven't sent one in, they've stopped my benefit. I need to go and see the doctor to get a cert, but I can't even face going down my stairs, never mind out onto the street to walk to the surgery. I also have to pick up a scrit for my meds, am almost out of milk and the cat needs food. It's just rediculous. The sensible side of me knows there's nothing to worry about. The other side is being dominant at the moment and has monsters under my bed, nasty people lurking in corners and my husband waiting outside to have a go at me about the divorce and settlement. Sensible knows none of these things are true. Irrational thinks sensible should take a hike because it doesn't fancy being eaten by monsters or jumped out on by Paul in one of his less agreeable moods.

News on the divorce front is the same old. So olds rather than news I suppose.

I spoke to my solicitor last month and did all the form-filling and signing I needed to. The forms were supposed to be exchanged in September. My solicitor is now sick of banging his head on a brick wall and has decided the exchange is unlikely to happen, so is working on proceeding without it. The last contact he had from Paul's solicitor was in September. It is now December. I'm sure he has better things to be doing than writing letters that get ignored and trying to get blood out of a stone.

After seeing my solicitor, I sent an email to Paul. I used three of his email addresses and copied my solicitor in. I wasn't really wanting to mail him, but since we are getting nowhere, it was a task I had to undertake out of desperation to get on with things. I was polite, businesslike and to the point. I asked him to please at least sign the form that will remove his petition from the courts so mine can proceed as agreed. I told him that his lack of cooperation would result in my costs more than likely coming out of his wallet, and that would include the cost of my solicitor travelling to Hampshire to ask for his petition to be removed, since Paul can't sign one bit of paper. I asked him to let me be able to get well again, because the delays mean my psychiatrist and doctor are fighting a losing battle against my depression, which means the remainder of my problems can't be treated. I can't have treatment for the PTSD till the depression is under control. My shrink feels the depression won't be able to be controlled till I have some form of closure on the marriage. My marriage can't be dissolved until Paul actually takes some sort of active role in the proceedings.

I feel helpless. I have my parents coming for Christmas, but if I can't get to the doctors, I'll have no money, and the cupboards will be bare. I can't even think straight enough to work out any gifts for them, which will be hand-made with whatever I have in the house. I have an idea for mum, but no clue what to do for dad. It's really only the thought of them coming down that is keeping me going at this precise moment in time.

I hate days like these. I just wish that someone could tell Paul to stop being so selfish and let me have the opportunity to have some sort of enjoyment in life rather than having everything coloured grey by depression.

I'm tired of this life. I'm scared of what that might mean.

Get your lucky white heather here...

2009-11-11T09:29:00.002Z

Irony...

So, I had a snotty cold. That was followed by a severe tweaking of my back, which was then followed by an infection following my minor surgery, and just as I was getting through the last of the antibiotics for that, I got knocked sideways by a D&V bug. I can't wait for whatever comes next.

Actually, what's next on the agenda is finishing a dress that I started making for a friend of mine on Thursday but couldn't finish because of being ill with this silly bug. I also have a visit to the solicitor to try and shove things along with regards the divorce, and a return to the theatre to do panto costumes for this year. I'm not sure which one of those two is going to be more of the comedy/farce than the other, but since we have now passed the two year mark on the divorce and the panto is in February, at least I have a pretty shrewd idea of which will come first.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I'm still on boiled water till my stomach decides to keep anything down, and with any luck I'll be fine by the time I have to go do forms with the solicitor. I really can't believe how patient he is being with this case given the length of time this has been going on now and the lack of communication from the other side of the dispute. I've done everything asked of me as quickly as possible to get things moving as fast as I can, since that seemed to be what was wanted in the first place, but everything has slowed to a crawl with the lack of response.

So, for the time being, it's back to waiting for this bug to clear, reading, playing silly games on the computer, watching DVDs and generally trying not to move too much. Oh what fun.

More delays

2009-10-26T12:32:00.002Z

Well, I had a letter from my solicitor today. It appears my husband hasn't been speaking to his solicitors regarding the divorce proceedings and the Form E that was supposed to be exchanged by the end of September. As a result, nothing is happening yet again.

I'm beginning to wonder once more whether my husband really wants this divorce. He may just be stalling because of the financial side of things, but the more he stalls, the more it costs him, so it's not his best move really. If it's not the money, then I have no idea what's going on. All I know is that it's not doing me any favours healthwise.

Ho hum... I have made an appointment to go see my solicitor to try and get things sorted anyway, so I'll just have to wait and see what happens.

In the meantime I have a stinky cold that might be the start of flu, mostly brought on by lack of sleep and lack of looking after myself properly. Next plan is to take painkillers and go back to bed.

Little things

2009-10-24T15:01:00.002+01:00

Why is it the little things in life that throw you?

I went to my friend's funeral yesterday. Everyone gathered at the house first, and while there, I went up to his room. The empty bed made me almost break down. I don't know why, but I expected him to be there.

Someone drove his favourite vehicle to the crematorium, and the sight of it, then realising he wasn't the one driving had me in bits.

The flowers... The people... Seeing his coffin... "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust"...

Little things, but all so emotional.

Paul was there too. My first sight of him made my heart nearly stop. The small curl of hair at the nape of his neck that makes his hairline lopsided... The way he stands... The sound of his voice...

Little things, but reminders that pull me back to a place I thought I had left behind.

He didn't speak to me. I wanted to ask him if he was ok, but I couldn't go near him. If he had come to me, I could have spoken to him, but he didn't. He avoided me as much as possible, and for that I am partly grateful, but also partly upset.

I made sure people kept him in the loop with regards news of our friend, because I wanted to make sure he knew what was happening. I hope my friend's sister was the one to give him the sad news over the phone- she said she would ring him when I spoke to her on the day of Lala's death.

I care about how he is coping with the loss. I care about him full stop. It's part of my nature, but also because of how I feel about him. I can't change that or make it magically go away, much as it would help me get on with my own life. I can't hate him even though he did so many things that should never have hapened. He is still my husband and I still care. I'm aware that doesn't work both ways though, and that adds to my sadness- from July 2000 till November 2007 is a long time to be with someone and then not care. I wish I could do it, because it would make things so much easier.

I still miss him every day, but I am aware I need to learn to live without him and to cope with the times I will see him. Perhaps once everything is over and the last bit of paperwork is in I will be able to move on. Perhaps not, but I'm going to try anyway. I have to take care of myself in the meantime and try not to get too upset by everything. That just leads to a place I don't want to go back to- a place of dark thoughts and stupid actions.

I just said goodbye to my friend. For his sake, I will try to keep going and not give in.

Lala, I will miss you. Sleep peacefully.

Long time, no blog

2009-09-27T17:31:00.002+01:00

I've not been blogging... I've been sucked into a set of forums that have been keeping me amused, but have slowed down a fair bit recently. Possibly the "back to school" thing, although the vast majority are over school age. Anyway...

Life is pretty damn crap right now.

My friend was diagnosed with terminal cancer. He was given chemo to try and extend his lifespan. I learned today that his body has rejected the chemo drugs, so he's now down to painkillers and waiting for the inevitable. It sucks. Hes a smashing bloke. I don't want him to die, but sadly, I don't get a say in that one. I have however promised him that there will be no unpleasantness between myself and Paul when the inevitable happens, as we will probably see each other at the funeral. I'm not going to be there for any other reason than to say goodbye to my friend and I doubt very much that I will have my mind on anything other than my friend.

In other news, I get the feeling that someone is having a laugh at my expense when it comes to the divorce. It is now stalled because his petition has not been recalled from Basingstoke court, and since it's still lodged, Birmingham cannot issue a Decree Nisi. I would have thought that his solicitors would have forseen this problem and recalled the petition when my solicitor agreed to make mention of it. Mind you, it means my solicitor has had to contact his solicitor, who will then have to contact Paul, who will have to instruct his solicitor to recall the petition, at which point his solicitors will have to recall the petition, then write to my solicitor to say it's been recalled. At that point I presume my petition will have to be resubmitted and join the queue again.

To say I'm feeling very defeated right now is an understatement. since I was told of this development, the nightmares have stepped up and I spent a good hour after reading the letter in tears of frustration that I am still tied to that man. It's like I am trapped. It's like I never left. It feels like he is still ruling my life, and the life I have because of this just keeps getting worse.

I can't sleep. I can't concentrate. I'm not eating properly because I have no appetite for proper food and snack on very little.

I'm getting to the point where I am failing to see a purpose in everything again if I am not going to be able to get away from Paul. I have no future as an independant person while I am legally bound to him, and that is dragging me down. I try to put a brave face on things, but to be honest, it's getting harder and harder to do that while my life is not under my own control. It is being determined by my husband still, and I am tired of living like this.

Paul B: Please sort it out. If you have any shred of decency left in you, please just get the divorce done with, because I cannot live like this any more. I can't work because of my health problems directly caused by the years of abuse and violence you subjected me to all coming to the fore in 2007. I have not been able to support myself for nearly two years. I am dependant on others for everything, and I don't want to live this way. You have a life, but I don't. Please. Let me have a life back before I don't have the will to keep on fighting.

Another step taken...

2009-08-20T21:33:00.002+01:00

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...

2009-08-19T11:08:00.002+01:00

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...

2009-08-10T21:59:00.002+01:00

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...

2009-08-02T22:05:00.004+01:00

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

2009-08-01T21:24:00.004+01:00

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.

Mourning

2009-07-28T16:22:00.002+01:00

My psychiatrist advised me to take time out, especially when I am not feeling so well, to mourn the death of an idealised relationship. Today I have decided to do so publicly in my blog, because I feel it might help if I write a few things down rather than just keeping them all in my head. I have no one here to talk to about it, and this, for me, is the next best thing.

I did have an idealised relationship. I thought that it could be perfect as long as I kept working at it. I thought that my marriage was going to be the last relationship I would ever have. I was so happy on my wedding day, marrying the man I loved beyond reason and looking forward to a life together with him.

I idealised things to the point where I said no wrong about him. I kept his nasty little secret to myself, not telling anyone other than those I most trusted, and I never told them more than one incident until I finally left. Then the truth came out.

In the time together however, I did what I could to make him notice me, to get him as part of my ideal. I went from playing Stepford wife and doing everything for him with a smile to returning his ignoring. Nothing seemed to make any difference to him at all. I forgave his little strays with the online girl and with a friend, simply because I did not want to leave the relationship. Part of me was happy despite the reality, simply because I was with the man who meant so much to me. I could ignore his flaws and faults as long as he was there.

Now I sit here deeply sad and miserable because the ideal is no more. It died the minute I had my eyes opened to the truth of the monster I lived with, the one that inhabited the body of the man I wanted to devote my life to. I feel lost and lonely without him, yet know that the "him" I miss is the idealised one, the loving, caring husband that disappeared some years back.

I wish that I could speak to him, to have him tell me that everything will be fine, that the past can be erased and he will be my ideal husband, but that is just wishful thinking. My ideal husband doesn't exist and I wear widow's weeds on the inside for the man I lost. I don't think I will ever get over the loss of my husband. I still cry in the night wanting his arms around me, then nightmare about his hands round my neck. The hardest part is knowing the physical man is still there, still alive, still breathing but not the man I married. That man is dead and gone and the warmth and affection I had from him that made me love him is no more.

Sometimes I just want him to tell me he is sorry for what he did, to have him care, but the man that would do that is long gone. My husband, my friend, is gone. I miss him, but there is nothing left for me to do other than try and live every day without him.

Very unsettling...

2009-07-28T00:34:00.003+01:00

That was tonight's experience. One minute I'm quietly messing about, tickling the bear while he kept slapping my hand away, the next he play-punched in my direction, not even coming close to connecting, and I was a total wreck. I burst into tears and had to curl up into his arms for big cuddles for a good 20 minutes before I could settle down enough to try and think rationally about what had just happened.

Paul never actually punched me. Slapped me, yes, but never punched me, and it's usually only things that have happened that will trigger a response. If someone gets too close to my neck for instance, I can have a bit of a freak-out. That's why I didn't understand my reaction.

I think part of it was the instant reminder of someone I cared for doing something as horrible as being violent towards me. Someone I trusted and someone I would have done anything for suddenly turning into something to be feared.

Rationally I know that the Bear would never intentionally do anything to hurt me. I know how placid and gentle he is with me, especially avoiding doing things he knows will trigger a response. He has put his hands near my neck on a couple of occasions to show proffessionals what my reaction is, even when he says beforehand what he is going to do. It's almost Pavlovian the way I react to certain things.

On top of that, something has upset my stomach and I feel rather sick. It started last night, so hopefully it will sort itself out soon. Mouse was sick last night too, but that was just a huge hairball. He seems ok today.

Tomorrow I hope to be better so I can get on with the sewing project and a couple of alterations that need finishing off for someone.

Project pics...

2009-07-24T21:49:00.002+01:00

Latest project under construction...

What happened next...

2009-07-24T14:05:00.002+01:00

I got a letter from my solicitor yesterday. This is a good thing, because it means the divorce is finally on its way to happening. Paul has finally agreed to go with my divorce petition and has said he doesn't want to contest it, although makes no admissions regarding the contents of my particulars. I plain English that means he hasn't denied that there was domestic violence and abuse. He's just not admitting to it on a legal document.

Moving on to other news...

I just started a new sewing project, although I do have a little bit of work waiting for me. I just needed something to challenge my brain a bit and to get me concentrating. This new project is certainly doing that! So far I have the skirt and sleeves of the dress pinned to my mannequin, but the neckline and the bodice shape is currently evading me. The material is a fantastic shot gold/turquoise with a crinkle finish that has the most amazing embroidery detail on it. It's a sari I bought recently but discovered a couple of tiny rips in the material, so it went for dressmaking instead of wearing. I'm not making the dress in my size though. It's going to be one of the ones I make to sell.

Because I don't use patterns, it means my dresses are all one-offs. I can't make another exactly the same, only similar in shape and so on. I estimate skirt lengths on the waistband, don't measure where pleats go, and cut hems by eye. My mother can't work out how I do it, since she has to use patterns. I suppose it's a talent I have: mum sews, knits, embroiders and paints, where I have channeled most of my creativity into the sewing.

I recently had a friend over to visit, and she bought material for an Asian suit. I made it the same afternoon, just laying the material out on the floor, cutting the shape, and then running it all up on the machine. She was well chuffed about it too, so that made me rather happy.

Oh well... Off to pin some material to my mannequin and see if there's any neckline style I fancy...

Reverse Karma?

2009-07-22T14:00:00.002+01:00

I feel like I'm the one being punished for what went on in that house.

First it was Beltring, then Kelmarsh and the poorly cat. Now my October cruise has been scrapped, the roof leaks in my flat and my meds are playing merry hell because of the side effects.

So, no holidays for me this year and I am going to have to speak to the landlord about the roof. I don't know how long it has been leaking, and I will have to investigate that soon. It's been dripping into a box of my stuff, and only spotted it because I had to go into the loft space to get something for my mate when it was raining. So, some of my things may well be ruined by the leaky roof.

I have to wonder what's coming next.

Walking under ladders...

2009-07-18T00:33:00.002+01:00

At the moment it feels like I'm spending my life walking under ladders while smashing mirrors...

First I couldn't go to Beltring because of the Idiot being there...

Now I can't go to Kelmarsh Hall, all of 30 miles from me, for a 17th Century event, because I'm totally skint. The Bear and I were supposed to be going there a week today, but given the current financial state of the pair of us, it's not happening.

Add to that the fact that I have to be up early tomorrow to take the cat to the vets as he is rather poorly, and it's all kind of getting a bit much.

OK, so the cat probably doesn't want to be sick, and it's not his fault. He does have a genetic condition that means he has problems with his bladder and crystals forming in his urine, and it now looks like there's crystals stopping him from having a proper pee. If it blocks completely, his kidneys will back up and poison him, and frankly, I don't want to lose my baby. Fortunately he's still able to pee a little, so the vet said it would be ok to leave till the morning. Even more fortunately, I qualify for free vet treatment, although I would pawn my soul if it meant making Mouse better. He may have to go on a prescription diet, which probably isn't going to be cheap... I will work out my finances to cope with that though, as it's an essential. People may think I'm mad for caring so much for my moggy, but he's my only family here, my best friend and he loves me. I'd be rather lost without him around.

I am annoyed however that once again I am unable to do something and go see my friends because of lack of finances while the Idiot is living it up in Beltring for a fortnight. No doubt he has plenty of food and alcohol to keep him going as well as probably buying lots of unneccessary, expensive crap. Perhaps I should send a message to him saying I want some cash. Bet I don't get any if I do tho.

Ah well. I'm trying to keep my chin up, but frankly, the only thing stopping me going completely nuts right now is the fact I have a house-guest.

Bitter and Twisted

2009-07-14T10:40:00.002+01:00

Exactly how I feel today. I am angry enough to want to go to Kent just to say in a loud voice about how pissed off I am that Paul gets to hang out with my friends and I don't. I am angry enough to want to go up to his girlfriend and tell her exactly what her current beau is like. I am angry enough to not care if my friends think badly of me for causing a scene. I am angry because I am the one who has to still suffer for what he has done while he gets away with it. I am angry because I am jealous that he has a life and I have very little.

I'm sick of having to phone helplines every time I get too depressed to want to carry on. I've had enough of living like this in constant fear of what I might do next. I've come to the end of my tether. I want to scream and shout at him and make him see what he has done.

I want him to care that he has ruined my life, not ignore it and have a life himself, enjoying himself while I sit here broken and hating myself. He is a selfish prick who cares nothing for those he hurts, those whose lives he destroys

And yet I still care...

If he meant nothing to me, I could have moved on by now. If he had managed to make me really hate him, I would not be sitting here day after day, taking tablets to keep my depression in check. I sometimes wish he had killed me when he nearly broke my neck that night. He would have lied his way out of it, or done his best to anyway, but at least then I would not have had to continue with this hell inside my head. I wouldn't have had to admit that I had lied to everyone about the state of the marriage. I wouldn't have had to find the courage to tell my parents that I sometimes wish myself dead and wouldn't have had to hurt them by them seeing the scars of what I do to myself. They may never have had to learn the truth of my marriage and what that man did to their little girl for years.

Even if it had been discovered that he had been my killer, the truth of years of abuse would never have had to come out. As it is, I survived and the survival has been worse than I could possibly have imagined. It still hurts. He still harms me mentally. The things he has done haunt me, and the fact that he doesn't care makes it worse.

If there had been some remorse on his part, perhaps things would be easier. If he had been bothered about my wellbeing, perhaps I wouldn't currently be fighting the urge to go down there and tell him exactly what he has done in front of all his so-called friends. It's another form of self-destruction, as I am sure those friends would not appreciate me making a scene, and a few would probably decide it would be better not to have me as a friend because I am unstable and disruptive.

I don't even want him to be sorry now. He had his chance to do all that, but he was obviously too busy to care about anyone but himself. If he came out now and got all "but I do care and want to make sure you're ok" I wouldn't believe him, simply because it's taken too long, and he's about to find out how much divorce will cost him. I don't want him being all caring now, because it would look so false in the face of the last god knows how long's ignoring me. I do wonder if it would make any difference, but that would only be if he meant it, and I doubt he has any real concern for anyone other than to worry about what people think of him. That's why he keeps having to play everyone's hero, so people will think he's wonderful.

Being honest, people think he's a twat. I know this because I heard it enough. I just didn't say anything, and frankly, joined in when people were slagging him off, because by that point, I'd had enough of trying to be the dutiful wife to a man who didn't care about me in the slightest.

I have worked out my anger I think. Now I'm just miserable again.

Sad day

2009-07-10T21:06:00.002+01:00

Today I had to bury my little Charlie Jack Edward, youngest of my hamsters and a really friendly, active, happy little creature who was the runt of the litter and never really grew much in his short life. The Bear found him this morning after he passed away overnight. He is now buried in my lilies, a fitting grave for my wee man.

I also had the upset of going to my psychiatrists today and having to talk about things that bother me, triggers for my worst times and trying to find the words to explain how difficult it is for me sometimes to keep myself in check and not do something silly. On a good note though, I am getting my tablets changed, as I have been getting some excruciating headaches, probably caused by my most recent tablets, so we are changing them to see if there's any improvement.

I don't have much else to say really. I should be going to the vehicle show this week, but for obvious reasons I'm not. This has upset me somewhat, as it was a nice holiday seeing people I hadn't seen for quite some time. My condition has deteriorated now to the point where I am too ill to be anywhere near Mr B. Even thinking about him is bad, so I am going to go do something else for a while.

Writer's block

2009-07-09T10:26:00.002+01:00

I came here with loads to say, and now I have no clue what it was I was going to write...

I think I might go back to bed and try getting up again in half an hour... see if that kicks the brain into working.

Don't hold your breath for it...

News...

2009-07-02T11:06:00.002+01:00

And now for the news...

First of all, a good surprise last night: Got home from being out for the day to find a letter from my solicitor waiting for me. The husband has finally agreed to go with my divorce in Birmingham court. At bloody last! I have to go along with the request not to ask him to pay costs, but it's a small price to pay to get things moving. I'm just happy that things seem to be finally coming to some sort of conclusion.

Secondly, I was out with the Bear yesterday. He had to pick something up that he'd bought on e-bay, and since we were about 20 miles from one of my friends' houses, we went for a visit. I've not seen them for 5 years, so it was a fantastic afternoon. We even went to the beach before coming home, although the sea was so far out you couldn't see it. That wasn't really a problem though, as we were at the beach. It was a great day.

In other news... I have my own net connection finally. I also have a froody wee netbook which is practically pocket sized, but absolutely fantastic. It means I can actually get sorted out and perhaps even get some work done in the way of writing. I started a book ages ago, so perhaps now would be the time to write some more of it. I can also cut the phone bills somewhat with any luck and chat to people by mail or on facebook instead of phoning. It's going to be very useful!

Ah well, just a wee one, because it's too hot to be sat indoors under a hot battery... I'm going to go try doing something productive...

Too hot..

2009-06-29T15:47:00.002+01:00

The weather is too hot for me... I'm hiding in the house where it's a bit cooler, but still slowly melting.

In other news, I'm still not divorced. I just had to send yet another list of my stuff that's left in the house to my solicitor, because Paul won't speak to me on the phone to sort things out. It's now beyond a joke with what's going on, and it's doing my health no good whatsoever. My solicitor has been communicating with Paul's solicitors and there's currently an argument over who gets to divorce whom. I, naturally want mine to go through, and Paul wants his to go through. The thing is, from what my solicitor has told me, if Paul goes with his divorce, he has to swear under oath that the particulars are true and correct. If he does, then he will be committing perjury. There's enough proof that his particulars are a fabrication out there, so he can't plead that it was what he saw from his point of view.

This is not confirmation of service of his papers by the way. They were sent to my solicitor and I only know about the particulars third hand. I originally wrote a cross-petition, so I had to know some of the stuff he'd written, and trust me, it's a load of crap. The problem with the cross petition is that it costs 300 quid to submit it to the courts, which is 300 quid more than I have spare. Actually, it's 300 quid more than I have, never mind spare. To get fee exemption, there's a time limit to get proof of income in. My solicitor had to ask the benefits service for proof... The time limit is 14 days. The benefits service take 3 weeks... Needless to say, I can't get fee exemption, so that's the cross petition out the window.

My divorce was issued in late January or early February, and only recently have we had anything from his solicitors. They've been whining that their divorce was issued first. I don't give a monkey's chuff. At least mine is accurate.

Well Mr B's solicitors, kindly ask your client if his particulars are in fact the truth or a complete load of utter bollocks fabricated to make him look like a poor, long-suffering husband instead of the ignorant, selfish, bullying wife-beater he really is.

A small snippet...

Paul said I was constantly ill. I was off work in 2002 for 6 months caused by depression, which he didn't help by having an online affair with an American, which I found out about while still ill. Nice, huh? I was also off work from June 2005 and was given ill health severance in April 2006 because of a balance disorder following a partial thyroidectomy to remove a tumour on my thyroid. During this period of illness, I found out he was having "fun" with a friend of mine, parked in his car in the car park behind her house. He's such a caring husband, isn't he?

After that I apparently had a couple of days work here and there working for an agency after I was ill. The truth is that I worked one day in an HR department at one company, then the following week started working in HR in another company in town. I was a temp there for 3 months, then they took me on for a 9 month contract, so I was there for a year total. Hardly a few days here and there.

Paul accused me of hiding the mail. First off, he was told less than 24 hours after I left where all the mail was, since he was looking for some tickets to something that he had ordered. I had moved it from its customary open cardboard box next to where he parked his bike every day to a black bag in the same place, as I needed the box to pack some of my more delicate things in. I regularly (for regularly read "every time it got to a state where I could hardly open the door") scraped his mail off the hall carpet and shoved it in the box, because he never picked any mail up off the floor. There were piles of mail in the hall, dining room, living room... Just about everywhere really. There's enough people who saw it too to prove him a liar. I generally opened my mail. He waitied for people to phone him asking for cash rather than dealing with paper bills that came through the door. I sometimes paid them anyway rather than wait for the "Final demand-pay-up-or-get-cut-off" letters.

Paul said I admitted that I wanted to have sex with another man which he found hurtful. Hurtful my ass. The truth has been documented here: he told me to go get it elsewhere because he was dysfunctional. I was staying with friends the weekend of that conversation, and they were witnesses to the whole lot. More proof of his lies.

Ah well, if he insists on being done for perjury, that's fine. Last person I can think of getting done for it was Jeffrey Archer, and he went to prison for it. Your choice Mr B.

I know he probably doesn't read this, but perhaps someone could give him a hint that it might be worth his while to take a quick squint at this one. It's for his own good. Really.

While you're reading this Mr B, just a little heads up about something your "friends" have been saying. There's some who have met the bird, and frankly one comment that keeps getting mentioned is that it looks like you're dating your gran. Their words, not mine. I at least have the guts to put it in public what people are saying. I've never met her, so I have no clue what she looks like, so the opinions are not mine. I'm just passing on the comments that you will never hear from them.

Ah well, shrink again tomorrow to try and get through the mess that's been left in my head by Mr B. I'm still having nightmares, not sleeping properly, eating too little and my doctor has already complained that I'm dehydrated because I'm not looking after myself. The Bear is doing his best, blessim, but he's getting really annoyed about the situation I've been left in and the callous treatment that I'm getting from Mr B. This is one of my better days where I managed to go out, but didn't really like being away from the house.

The good news is that I've managed not to self-harm for a couple of weeks now, so that's a bit of progress. Mind you, it's probably because digging bloody great holes in myself no longer hurts. I don't have any painkillers in my house either, so that means I can't overdose on them either. It hasn't stopped me thinking about it tho.

Ho hum... 3 month waiting list for psychiatric treatment for the PTSD... I'll wait... I just want to get past this whole mess and move on.

The bit I find unfair is that Paul has a life, a job, a house, money, good health and can go where he wants, when he wants. I am stuck indoors most of the time, can't work, get a pittance from the government that has to cover all my bills, rented accommodation that's not secure as the lease is being sold at the moment, and my health is crap. I can't even go to Beltring because he will be there, and I can't be doing with living on temazepam and other tranquilisers just to go to a vehicle show. Mr B has contributed absolutely nothing to my health or wellbeing since the day I left. I tried to take things to the amicable stage and got a kick in the teeth when he posted in his blog (couldn't even tell me himself) that he was just making the right noises in the right places and wasn't even interested.

I'm in limbo. I want out. I want a life.

More stuff going on...

2009-06-20T20:05:00.002+01:00

Well, I've been busy... Mum visited a couple of weeks back, my friend S is over this weekend and my mate L is planning on coming down in the week. All in all it's keeping me busy, so I don't mind. Having someone else in the house means I think less about things and have to concentrate on being the hostess and friend rather than the battered, depressed person that I can easilly become on my own.

I've been pretty bad of late, self harming and wishing I could just switch off and not wake up for a year or so. I also have been trying to contend with the morbid fascination with watching my own blood dripping off me and failing rather badly, it has to be said. I had to take a couple of trips to the doctor as well as making a few phone calls to my shrink just to try and stay sane for five minutes at a time. Sadly it wasn't always successful... Why is it I hit my worst patches on a weekend when the doctors is shut and the shrinks is too?

Ah well... I'll work on it...

Moving on...

2009-06-14T21:57:00.002+01:00

Things have moved on a bit. I've been diagnosed as having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as well as the depression, caused by the domestic violence. It explains why I've been having anxiety and panic attacks, nightmares and flashbacks, as well as the bouts of insomnia and agoraphobia. It all comes down to the final addmitting to myself that I was living with a violent bully who could possibly kill me the next time he lost his temper.

I'm still trying to move on from the past and the damage that has been done to me mentally. I still self-harm when I get really bad, trying to shift the pain from inside to out, although recently the stuff I've been doing has ceased to hurt. Most of what I've done recently is in response to a morbid fascination with wanting to see my own blood flow. I have to have psychiatric treatment for the damage that's been done, but unfortunately the waiting list is three months or thereabouts, so it's damage limitation till then.

I know I've scared people with things I've said while in a self-destructive phase, and to be honest, I even scare myself sometimes. I can't understand why I get so bad so quickly, one minute reading a book, the next contemplating how far I have to dig to find a vein... I plan to go to my mental health clinic tomorrow to see if there's any answers or at least something I can do to keep from killing myself by accident. I don't particularly have any desire to kill myself, even when I'm completely in my dark places, but I do want to hurt myself, to bleed, to take tablets to make me sleep and find oblivion to escape the blackness. I'm very afraid that one day I might take too many tablets while not thinking about it, cut myself too deeply and bleed to death or even just end up with blood poisoning from whatever I have used to cut myself causing a massive infection. As it is I have sore hands which I need to get checked out by the doc. The scissors I used to cut chunks out my hand were probably not the most sterile things, and I scratched all the skin off my other hand because I had some sort of heat rash that was driving me nuts...

The Bear reckons I'm better than I was to start with, but it's been a long, slow process to get to "a little better" as he says. I'm not a lot better or nearly recovered, not by a long way, but it's a step in the right direction. I have even stopped craving the presence of Paul, although there are still occasions when I think of him. I had a burst of trying to contact him to sort out stuff and getting my possessions back from the house, but he was incredibly rude. I think he's changed his mobile number too, not that I'm that bothered any more.

I do get lonely sometimes, and sometimes I crave the company of another person in my house and in my life. The Bear comes round when he can, but sometimes after he's gone or during the day when he's working, I just have this wish to have someone here to talk to. I had mum here for a week, and it was fantastic just having someone around all the time, mind you, I don't know if I could do it on a permanent basis, especially at the moment because of my current problems. It did give me the incentive to fight through some of the worst bits with her in the house so I didn't upset her too much. I don't like upsetting my parents, but I still had a bad day while she was here and ended up sobbing on her shoulder for a while. It was nice to be back to being a "child" instead of having to be a responsible adult.

Ah well, time to go again. I shall be back again whenever... Don't wait up...

Every Day The Same Again

2009-05-28T19:52:00.003+01:00

Well, things change and some things stay the same. At the moment my life has hit neutral, and I feel like that guy in the film "Groundhog Day", just repeating the same things over and over. Being in a rut mentally as well as physically gets a little dangerous... I'll not elaborate because everyone will just tell me off.

Suffice to say the local Mental Health Team are doing sterling work keeping me on the planet. My "dearly beloved" husband (yep, STILL bloody married to him) is being as much use as a chocolate fireguard in the middle of Africa. My poor Bear is having a tough time trying to cope with work, family, a friend of his needing help with her decorating (she's 18 and the council moved her into a flat that a dog wouldn't call home) as well as my problems and near breakdowns.

No, I'm not well. New medication might help, but I'm now considered to be "at risk". Thanks Paul. Really. You've been such a help... (That was sarcasm by the way Mr B, and once again, when you point out that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, I shall once again remind you that I really do have to play down to my audience, ie you, Mr B)

Life sucks. I'm considering alternatives. Suggestions welcome (although my husband and his cronies can shut the fuck up and go back to their kennels. I've had enough now. Just accept that you've won and move on to destroy someone else's life).

Another grey day...

2009-05-05T22:01:00.002+01:00

It's been yet another of those days. I had a bad spell earlier when all I wanted to do was go home- home in this case being Andover. The irratonal side of me just wishes all of the last 18 months was a bad dream, and the rational side of me knows it isn't and knows I am better of where I am now. Better off in the not-getting-beaten-by-my-husband sense of the word. I'm still skint.

I commented on my facebook earlier that I'm beginning to wonder whether Paul actually wants to get divorced. He's not responded to anything the solicitor has sent him, and it's getting beyond a joke now. I would dearly love to phone or text him and ask if he's changed his mind about the marriage, but I don't feel like wasting any more phone credit trying to talk to him.

He just doesn't want to pay me what the lawyers will tell him he has to when the divorce happens. He's already told me he doesn't want to lose the house, but to be honest, the longer he carries on, the more it will cost in maintenance as well as all the rest of it that I'm entitled to. He had the affrontery to ask me ages ago if, in exchange for him dropping his financial claim against me, I would do the same... Not happening...

I'm going to be old by the time I get rid of him. Mind you, on the good side of that, the house prices will have risen a lot higher and I'm entitled to half the equity...

Someone tell Paul that I'm waiting for him to remove his finger from whichever orifice he currently has it stuffed in and get on with it. The papers were sent out over ten weeks ago. If we are getting a divorce, get on with it. If not, how about some cash to pay my rent and bills every month, since I'm still married to him and therefore still technically his dependant, especially since he's made me too ill to work and support myself...

Anyone want to buy a house, LandRover Discovery, caravan, military vehicle and a pushbike? I know someone who is probably going to have to sell all of his soon...

Why life sucks...

2009-05-03T20:00:00.003+01:00

Just when I think things are improving, they go downhill again.

I wrote the previous post on paper a week ago, writing and rewriting bits so that it would be a sensible, calm, informative letter. I decided to put it here to show there is nothing to hide, that there is no reason for me to be snide, nasty or bitchy. I wrote it because if I didn't, I would feel like I had let Paul get away with what he did to me and if he did it to someone else, I would feel an enormous sense of guilt because I had sat back and said nothing. Doing that would feel to me like a tacit approval of what he did in the past and condoning him doing it again to someone else.

I can't begin to explain how it feels inside to have to cope with everything, try to get over it and still have the future to face. From a mental health standpoint, I'm not at all well, and that is taking its toll on my physical health too.

I don't know any of the answers. I don't know how to get to the other side of this and still be a human being. A lot of the time all I want is silence, but inside my head is just a jumble of thoughts and feelings, each one screaming at me. I can't explain it any better.

There are things I want that I can't have. I can't have them because they don't exist any more. I want my life back, but that would mean having Paul back, and I won't go back to the way he was. I know how he is being, and it makes me hurt like hell to know the man I fell in love with is showing that face again.

He doesn't speak to me any more. He hasn't for some time. I know he doesn't care, but accepting the knowledge is what tears me up.

I can't speak to certain people now. I can't give my address to anyone because of irrational fears of him coming here. Part of me wants him to show up and apologise for everything, to show some remorse for what he has done, and for what his actions (and inactions) are still doing to me. The other part wants never to see him again.

I don't know how much more I can take. I phone helplines and speak to people who try and help. I speak to my shrink. I've been to hospital and handed myself in before doing something I shouldn't and I've been in hospital after not stopping myself in time.

Right now I want to hide in a corner and cry. I've stirred up the emotions again and it's not healthy. I want to go home, yet I know that the home I want to go to is the one I shared with the husband I loved, and that no longer exists.

When the person you love most in the world, the one you would walk through fire for, the one you would give up everything to be with and be prepared to do anything for no longer cares, then what is there left in this life but a lot of pain that shreds my soul.

I love my Bear, but it's different... With every partner I have had, the measure of my affection is based on them compared to my dad, who is the best dad in the world and means the earth to me. Would I save my partner or my dad if I could only save one from drowning? The only person in my life ever to have come before my dad is Paul. Even the Bear comes second.

Perhaps knowing that explains why I'm such a mess...

Dear Michelle...

2009-05-03T19:18:00.002+01:00

I am writing to inform you of some things you should know and would ask you please to read this with an open mind. I am not here to split your relationship up, nor am I writing to be mean or nasty. I am writing to say to you what I wish someone had told me a long time ago.

Your current partner, Paul, is my husband, although, as you know, we are separated and going through a divorce. I am not trying to get him back as I have no wish to go through everything again. I freely admit that I still love him, however I will not subject myself to his abuse, belittling, abuse or violence again. I left to get away from the violence he had been inflicting on me for some years and was given the courage to leave in November 2007.

I'm not going to go into details here. The whole truth can be found by reading my blog entries from November 07 onwards. I am writing this in the hope of preventing your relatiopnship with Paul going the same way as I wouldn't wish the problems I had and am still having on anyone else.

I sincerely hope he treats you better than he did me. At first he was wonderful- kind, talkative, generous, helpful, the sort of man who would move heaven and earth for me if I asked him to- everything I could possibly have wanted in a man. As time went on he became the violent bully I finally ran away from. I hope to God you never see that side of him and that he stays the caring, considerate person you probably have as your partner now.

I thought long and hard before writing this, knowing how it could be received, but I hope that you will read and understand that I would feel an immense guilt if he ever raised a hand to you or yours, knowing that I could have said something to let you know how he can be. Prevention is better than cure, as they say.

If you want to talk, you can contact me the way I will contact you to send this.

Kind regards

M

More rubbish

2009-04-11T19:24:00.003+01:00

Well, there's not much going on here other than the continuing tidy of my new home... I keep finding rubbish in amongst the boxes and have been throwing out stuff left, right and centre. When all's said and done though, I've done pretty well on the sorting and throwing. I decided to be fairly strict with myself and have chucked stuff I really don't need, like old christmas cards from workmates I can hardly remember and that sort of thing.

So far I think I've chucked about ten binbags of crap out. How good am I? I still seem to have too much stuff, but then again, that's my perennial problem. Besides, a lot of it is sewing things, so therefore decidedly not rubbish. I do have a couple of boxes of stuff that's not mine lurking around, but those will get shoved in the loft until such times as they can be got rid of out of my house.

My new place is fantastic... I didn't have heating for a couple of weeks, but a hot water bottle and extra blanket solved that easilly enough, and I boiled the kettle for hot water, so it was no great hardship. I can't remember if I've already described the place, but... well, if I have, read it again...

As you come in the door, you come straight into the kitchen. It's not particularly huge, but big enough for just me now that I've slimmed down a few things and been given a couple of bits of storage to put the rest in. The house is L shaped, with the kitchen on the top of the L and the hall running from kitchen to living room along the long line of the house. As you come along the hall, there's the bathroom, with bath and shower (electric, so I at least could have a shower while having no hot water or heating...) and enough space for my indoor plants, towel shelves and the cat tray, then there's what's supposed to be my dining room, but I'm usung it as the bedroom, as it's at the back of the house, small, cosy and above all, fairly quiet. That bit is the start of the bottom of the L, so is the full width of the house minus the width of the hall...

My living room is HUGE in comparison to the old flat... It's 13 feet by 14 feet with a bay window looking out the front of the house. The great thing is that I'm not overlooked by anyone, as I have a car park right across the road, and all you can really see are the trees and things at the back of it. It has a chimney breast wall too, and I have livened that up with a fake fire... I found a cast iron night grate in the loft and put it in the centre of the chimney wall, then filled it with grey silk and red and white fairly lights, so it looks pretty nice. There's enough space for my three-piece suite (bought from e-bay for a tenner... Much cheapness!) and I'm going to have a smallish dining table tucked in a corner. I have a breakfast pedastal table and two folding chairs in the kitchen for when it's just me, but if I have mum and dad over, it would be nice to be able to sit at the table for meals.

Upstairs (yes, I have an upstairs... how cool am I?) there's the loft space over my bedroom, accessed through the "pixie" door, which is about half the size of a normal door and you have to squeeze in past the other chimney breast to get into the loft proper. No big stuff going in there I fear! Opposite, above the living room, is what's supposed to be the master bedroom, but I am going to use it as a guest room when I have people staying, and a sewing room all other times. I already have the Victorian day bed up there, and will hopefully add a futon double sofa bed if I can get one cheaply enough. It will mean I can have places to sit or have guests sitting as I'm doing costume fittings, as well as having somewhere for guests to stay over rather than me vacating my bed or guests having to sleep on the floor or the furniture.

How come when I had a three bedroom house I didn't have space for guests, but now I have a technically one-bedroom house, I have space for 5 guests once I get the futon and if I sleep on the sofa? Even if I don't vacate my bed when I get the futon, I can have 4 guests, such as my two friends and their two kids sharing the day bed... I can have more if people want to sleep on the floor too... Party at mine?

Anyway, I just need to get on with making curtains and bits and pieces for the house. I have a lovely sari I bought recently for the massive sum of £3 which is going to be a fantastic bedspread and cushion covers for the day bed. It's silk too. Anyone want any Asian clothing, just let me know... I can get it much cheapness round here! I have a nice collection myself these days, all for cheap prices and I wear them too when I feel like it. I have a gorgeous sari that I've worn out for dinner a couple of times (another £3 bargain) and another that was more expensive (£8) which is the sari version of a wedding dress that I plan to make into a baby gown. It's absolutely gorgeous fine white silk with gold beads sewn all over it and gorgeous gold (real gold...) red and green embroidery on the hems and a 3 foot deep border on the fall (the bit that hangs over the left shoulder). It's a project I'm looking forward to. I have to do victorian costumes first...

Well, my house is getting there. I have a few more boxes to sort, the sewing room to organise and then I'm done. My house is even fairly tidy despite the boxes and things, because I've been trying not to get too much stuff all over the place if I can help it. The sewing room is a bit of a tip though, as there's loads of bags of material, boxes of stuff and all my sewing rubbish just piled up any old how waiting for organisation to hit. That's next week's project, as I will have nothing else to occupy me...

Bear is off on his hols with the family next week, so no Bear, no internet, no distractions... I can just be getting on with things. Apart from everything else, I was given my aunt's latest book, and I'm desperate to read it, although I've promised myself that I won't till I'm organised and everything in the living room has been tidied away. Motivational reading material...

Ooooh, nearly forgot my garden... It's doing very well with everything coming away lovely. Spring is nice in the garden, and I'm really happy to have mine all out there for me to look after. I thought some might have snuffed it, as I wasn't around for a month to water and care for them, but they don't seem any worse off for it.

Right, m'off again... Once I find my power lead for the computer I might write more blogs, but it's in a box somewhere... The joys of moving, but at least it's a lovely house.

Reality Hits

2009-03-15T18:50:00.002Z

Finally my life seems to be turning a small but significant corner. I can now name one of my biggest problems:

Dependance.

I spent a while on the phone last night figuring that phoning helplines was an improvement on doing something I'd regret later. I really wanted to phone Paul. I was desperate to speak to him, as I was the night a couple of weeks ago when I rediscovered the itchiness and queasiness of taking too many co-codamol. I couldn't sleep and wanted to get some much needed rest. I was prowling the flat like a caged lioness obsessed with the "Do I? Don't I" question of contacting Paul.

It may seem strange to those of you not in my situation that I would want to contact my (still) husband after everything I've said in the past about him and what he did to me. That was half of my confusion over phoning him and desperately wanting him to talk to me and tell me he cares still, despite all the differences and the issues.

The National Domestic Violence Helpline gave me the answer: I have been so subjugated by Paul that I have been (still am?) dependant on what he thinks, what he says and how he feels. I still (up to last night... the future is still in the testing stages) want to know how he is, what he's doing, how he's getting on and to have him care about what I've been up to, perhaps feel guilty about not speaking to me and so on. It's a difficult place to find yourself.

I have been advised that his non-contact is just another form of abuse, ignoring me when he knows from what's been said in texts and so on that I wanted to speak to him. I also now see the incident in the garden, the one where he hugged me hard, kissed me like he wanted me so badly and told me he still loved me, along with saying "we can't live with each other, but we can't seem to live without each other either" was simply cruelty. He told me what he thought I wanted to hear. He said all the words that would soften me towards him, and I now believe that all that guff he spouted, on the back of all the other evidence, points towards him trying to manipulate me into not asking for a financial settlement when the divorce finally goes through.

He also phoned me when I was walking to hospital to hand myself in before doing something that I would probably regret later: Another instance of wanting/needing to talk to him and not being able to, sending a text, then sending another asking him to disregard the first. He responded with a phone call, and told me he cared, that he wanted to stay on the phone with me as I walked to hospital at some god awful time of night and said all the right words, but I now doubt there was more than guilt behind the call. He said he didn't want the police turning up at his door to inform him of my demise, but to be honest, I don't think he would be that bothered. It would get him out of an expensive divorce after all...

I'm being such a cynic, but then again, what do I really have to work with?

Following the revelation about the police and all his caring, there was literally one conversation to say I'd been let out of hospital (I thought I owed him that much... How silly of me) and after that, not a thing. There''s been no "are you alright?" questions in any media from him, no checking to make sure I'm coping, no asking if there's anything he can do to help.

Nope, he's gone silent. He's either under orders not to speak to me, in which case, if he really cared, and I mean REALLY, he would have found a way to get a message to me to say his hands were tied and he couldn't talk to me on the orders of his solicitor. The other side is that he just can't be bothered, and all the protestations about how much he cared, loved me and so on were just platitudes designed to make him feel less guilt after seeing the way talking to him about our "relationship" affected me, or because telling me the truth might have caused a scene or made me do something while we were talking in the garden. I had a spade in my hand digging up a plant, and it doesn't take too much imagination to figure out that since his mind can contemplate violence against me, he probably thinks I could do the same back.

I couldn't for the record. I've had offers, but have turned them all down. I'm not having someone go round there to beat seven bails of shit out of him, despite people saying he deserves it for all he put me through. That's not the way I am and violence solves nothing. Even I know that despite inflicting it on myself a few times since the split. All it does is cost money in elastoplast and antiseptic ointment and leaves scars that I will carry to my grave.

I now also know the self-harm aspect of my illness is caused by the mental hurt of the memories projecting themselves as real pain. I've stopped now, but a few people have commented that it must have made him smile quietly to himself that he could still cause damage even without being here.

I worry slightly about his new girlfriend, and aired my concerns to the NDVH last night, and the girl on the end was also concerned. There's not much I can do though: If I say anything about why I left, then I'm the bitchy ex just saying stuff to split them up. I'm not for the record. I'm actually pleased that he has a girlfriend, and I'm not just saying that either. I just worry about her and hope that she won't have to go through the same as I have. I know he can be a nice bloke when he feels like it, but I've seen the nasty, vindictive, cruel, violent and demoralising side of him too.

I'm hoping that the call to the NDVH and a call to the local Womens Aid tomorrow will help me get out of the dependency rut that I have got myself into. I know I need counselling, and I am going to request it. I hope it helps.

On a side note, I also have to contact the dental hospital about getting my jaw taken to bits because the stress has killed the joint, and have to have yet more investigations done at the gynae unit of the local hospital, just in case there's something nasty lurking in my cervix.

Ah well, I sent him an email from a strictly private email address as he suggested: no one has/will have access to anything printed in it other than myself and anyone he chooses to share his end of things with. So far there has been no reply, and I'm not holding my breath for one either. To be honest, it would probably be best if he doesn't respond. He's not done up to now with other mails or texts, so him replying now, after all this, would make it look mighty fishy anyway.

I just need time and a few counselling sessions, and perhaps life will start improving.

Stuff...

2009-03-11T00:32:00.003Z

Life gets more complicated every time I open my eyes. Things never seem to get any clearer, and the water gets muddier. Thoughts slip out my mind as soon as they appear, leaving trails of doubt and unanswered questions.

I don't know what I want any more, other than one thing. I can't say what that one thing is here. I just know what it is and know it more than likely isn't going to happen.

Everyone has opinions on what I should do and how I should do it. I have no idea which way to turn these days, and life just seems a little too complicated. Things would be easier if I could actually say the words that go through my head and have them come out as a coherent thought process and have others understand it. At the moment though I can't string my thoughts together into an easilly communicable way, so no one really knows what's going on in my head. If you don't know what's going on, there's no way you can make an informed decision on advice to give.

I'm being encouraged to speak to professionals, but I have no idea who to speak to or what to say. I'm having trouble working out what to do for the best now. I'm trying to do stuff and not finding the motivation because there's a big gap somewhere that needs sorting. Who to speak to though? I'd have to explain everything all over again to someone, or have them keep asking questions, like the poor girl at the Samaritans that couldn't keep up with what I was trying to talk through. I hate having to explain everything over and over, but the only people who know what happened are not the professionals trained to deal with people in my situation.

I get bothered by thoughts and questions that I don't have answers for. I can't find the answers on my own, and they're mostly all locked up in someone else's head.

Maybe I'm not being spoken to by certain people because they've been told not to. Maybe they're just not talking. Maybe they don't want to talk. Maybe they are trying to pretend that I don't exist any more. I don't know.

I'm not making much sense here, am I? Oh well... At least I no longer have any tablets round the house. It's probably best, since my last trip to hospital was fairly recent and the food was a bit naff.

I'm not looking for death. All I want sometimes is oblivion. I just don't want to know about things, don't want to be awake and aware and don't want awareness of the shit that is my life at the moment. If I had the choice I'd opt for a coma for a while.

Sadly, it's not going to happen. Even if I could, the problems would still be there when I woke up.

Ah well... Back to the complete mess that is my head... One day it might all become clear, but I'm not holding my breath.

Bloody people...

2009-01-31T20:48:00.002Z

My next door neighbour's son was beating his girlfriend up yet again tonight. I phoned the police.

Ho hum... It's gone quiet again, so that's fine by me. Last time the little bastard egged my house for being rightly annoyed at him beating up his bird, so I'm waiting for more eggs tonight. Maybe I should put up a net on the washing line and really piss him off... Heh... Now there's an idea...

Ah well, just a quicky tonight as I don't have long before I get the laptop whisked away from me again... I still have costumes to make too, and I am really beginning to despair of getting the flippin velvet to stay in the right place to stitch it together. It's a nightmare...

Right, that's your lot for today. More news as and when I have it, and can steal the Bear's laptop to post it...

Snails move faster...

2009-01-27T20:54:00.002Z

... Than my divorce. I'm still married to Himself, and not really enjoying it, since no bugger can spell my name unless I use my maiden name for stuff. It's really quite annoying that I have to wait to be divorced before I can go back to my maiden name and get rid of his officially, unless I do a change of name thing that will cost me money I don't have.

Sad to say, I still think about him a lot, and sometimes I get really morose when I realise just how little I really meant to him. I've not seen or heard from him since October, since he decided not to reply to any text messages. It's sad to look back over my marriage and see how foolish I was to think that I might mean something in his life rather than just being part of the furniture that did the housework when I could be bothered. I stopped bothering when I realised that I was working a 39 hour week to his average 36 hours, and I was the one expected to do all the housework on my days off, since his days off were "rest days" when he did naff all (same as all the other ones really).

I do wonder why he bothered to say that he cared about me, that he still loved me, why he bothered to kiss and hug me in the back garden of the house when I went to pick things up, unless of course it was his mercenary way of getting me to be nice and not make any financial claims on him. I've seen his "care and concern" in the last months with him not bothering to contact me, despite being told he could if he wanted (The text, sent a couple of days after yet another he didn't reply to read: "I take it you're too busy for a chat as usual. Will go back to speaking via the solicitor. Am seeing him soon so you may hear something about that at some point from yours. Want to get all this sorted and the settlement out the way sooner rather than later. You know how to contact me if you want, but I'm too skint to keep talking to myself via text or being the one to phone and being told you're too busy etc. Bye. M") That was on the 5th November last year following a text on the 3rd that didn't get replied to, and previously only contacting him via text on the 15th September and a call on the 11th October, so I wasn't really harrassing him. You'll note that all texts and calls start from me, and I really am too skint to keep phoning and texting him and getting nothing in reply. He knows how to contact me if he wants, but not a thing has been heard either from him or his solicitor.

Now, there's another thing: A letter went out to his solicitor on the 5th December with a couple of requests and an offer for them to read the particulars of my divorce petition if they wanted before it was submitted to the courts. Not a thing has been heard from them on any of the contents of the letter. You can bet that he knows about the letter, but is ignoring it, the same as he does all the rest of his mail. It's over a year since all this started, so he's probably lost interest, just the same as he lost interest in the marriage after a few months.

I'm losing interest as well: I'm losing the interest I had in being amicable and trying to be reasonable about things, taking his thoughts and feelings into account with most of the things I've done in the way of solicitors and stuff. Well, to be honest, now I really can't be bothered playing nice person, since he's not even interested enough in how I am to be bothered texting to see if I'm ok. I'm not, as it happens, and I still see a shrink and consider stupid things in the dark hours I spend on my own. I'm not going for sympathy, just telling it like it is.

The sooner I get over that man, the better it will be for me, however for some pathetic reason or another, it's proving difficult. I just hope that any future partner of my continuing, unwanted husband is forewarned about his violence, because frankly, I don't want anyone else to have to go through the hell that my life has been, and still is. I've had to put up with this for years, and even have to put up with the nightmares and fears when I've been away from him for over a year. Imagine what that would do to someone who doesn't have a shrink less than 5 minutes from their house and a decent network of friends who have been a great support to me.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, my cat is fine following a bout of the cold that neccessitated him having antibiotics, and the hamsters are just the same as usual. The Bear is currently sleeping while I steal time on his mobile internet and I'm about to look for somewhere cheaper to live, since I really can't afford this place any longer.

Ho hum... Fingers crossed that something positive happens... You never know, himself might climb down off his high and mighty perch to talk to me, but I wouldn't hold your breath for that. The only person he really cares about is himself. He describes himself as caring, considerate, chatty and everything else if you look him up on the net (some dating site memberships predate my leaving him despite him claiming I was the unfaithful one, even with his permission... Go figure...) and to be honest I found him ignorant, boorish, uncaring, unwilling to discuss anything, perfectly willing to misconstrue anything to make him the little martyr, and frankly, a waste of fresh air. Why then do I still bother, care and love him? Lord the lone knows, and if anyone has a decent reason why, please let me know, either by reply to this or written in pencil on the back of a used ten pound note...

Cheers all, till next time x

Another post. Don't die of shock.

2009-01-08T11:40:00.002Z

Life just started to suck even more. I am not going to go into too much detail, but I have spent a good portion of my morning on the phone trying to keep a roof over my head.

I don't particularly want to be homeless again. It's not fun. I'm waiting to hear back from a couple of people whether I'll have somewhere to live next month.

Oh well. I'm still alive. I would say "I still have my health" but to be honest, I'm skating round my sanity again, have added stress and pain to the list of ailments I have, and just got over the flu which hung around for 6 weeks. I'll stick with being alive.

By the way Jen, You're a picnic in comparrison. :)

Tempus Fugit...

2009-01-07T22:40:00.002Z

Or "Time flies" for those who dont do the Latin thing...

Usually it means that time seems to pass swiftly if youre enjoying yourself. Sadly for me it just means that time is passing me by while I sit and twiddle my thumbs in between telephone calls and visits to my solicitor waiting for something to happen.

Fourteen flippin' months already. Fourteen months, countless telephone calls, several trips to the solicitor and still no end in sight. Oh well. I shall twiddle some more and hope to be divorced by the time I'm 50. I won't hold my breath.

Well, I would do a longer post, but frankly I'm just not in the mood right now. I keep writing them at home, but still have no net, so can't post them.

I'm still alive, if that counts for anything.

Just Thinking...

2008-11-06T16:26:00.000Z

That’s about all I do these days… Think. I am still trying to get my flat in some sort of order, and it bothers me that I can’t seem to get it straight. I have a lot of stuff, but there’s more stuff that I want to keep than I have spaces for. I’m doing my best though. It’s getting there slowly as I manage to find spaces for things, rearranging so everything fits, or at least clears a bit more floor space.

I’m trying to get some sort of order in my life, doing things I know I have to in order to get myself back to a possible state of normality, although I’m not sure what “normal” is these days. It would be nice to be able to get out and do things, but I’m still wrestling with bouts of severe depression and agoraphobia. I applied for a job as a seamstress before going on my holidays, just a little part time thing, but didn’t get it. I’m sort of glad I didn’t in a way, because it would have meant forcing myself out the house even on days when being under the covers of my bed was the only place I wanted to be. I’m not sure whether forcing myself would be a good thing or not, but my dark side thinks it would just have made things worse, that I’ve have made silly errors at work and ended up with no job again because of my irrational illness.

It’s an illness. It has been confirmed now, with a proper psychiatric doctor confirming that I now have what is termed as a “long term depressive disorder with occasional bouts of extreme depression” which is being treated with anti-depressants and regular visits to see the psychiatrist. He reckons I could be on my medication for the next eighteen months. I’m hoping that the symptoms will recede well before that, because frankly, living like this might just shove me over the edge again, with the thought of not getting better for a year and a half.

Life isn’t all doom and gloom though: I had my cruise, I have a party to go to in a couple of weeks with a friend, Christmas in Germany with the family to look forward to and another visit to my friends in Wales in a week or so for a day or two. I’m now worried about what to wear for the party, since I’d like to wear my red taffeta dress, but I’m not sure it wouldn’t be a bit too posh, but don’t want to wear something lesser in case it’s not posh enough… Dilemma time. I shall work it out before I go away though.

I promised to put in something about my holiday in a previous blog, so I suppose now would be a good time for that.

Well, on the Tuesday (30th September) I was packed and ready early, pacing the house waiting for the Bear to take me to where the coach was picking me up. I met a couple of very nice people on the coach trip on the way down too, and got chatting, so that was nice. We got down to the docks at Southampton in time for me to meet my sis and then go for lunch in the Lido on the ship. I’ve had lunch on board before, and the excitement wasn’t really kicking in. We managed to retrieve my bags and get them to sis’s cabin, and then I unpacked and got everything put away before sailaway. We went up onto the foredeck (crew only area) to watch the tugs and things, and sis took pics of them. She’s got a thing about pics of tugs, and has photos of tugs from all around the world. The captain blew the horn as we left, and just after sis had a phone call from the parents. She passed the phone to me and I spoke to mum… She said “Hello, mummy here. We just thought we’d come down to wave you off…” which I declared was a load of rubbish as my sister turned me round to face the bridge… Where my parents were on the observation deck just below the bridge waving their hankies at me! I screamed and laughed. The whole family were on board. Sis had been half way across the Atlantic when she heard a cabin had come available, so she booked and paid for it for the parents. Cool, huh? I have no idea how mother managed to keep it a secret…

Anyway, we dined in the Mauretania restaurant on board, which is nice and posh, and had Vladimir and Johann as our waiters. They were fab, and had to put up with a lot of rubbish from us, but they soon got used to our jokes and started joining in. I couldn’t believe how attentive everyone was: by day three I asked the Maitre ’D if my parents were in for breakfast, and he knew who I was talking about… The food was fantastic, and I have all the menus for each day in a souvenir pack. I won’t go into too much detail about the menus: suffice to say you could eat yourself sick if you wanted to, and it was all fantastic food, cooked perfectly, served beautifully, and the choices were fabulous. If I wrote down everything I’d eaten and everything that was on the menus, I’d probably get lynched, so I won’t. I came back 2 pounds heavier than I went though… Not too bad considering, however I did do a lot of walking about the ship, some dancing (I did tango lessons with a guy who had clammy hands, no sense of rhythm and the memory of a stunned goldfish when it came to the moves) and a fair bit of walking in places we went.

Places we went: Well, it was the last Round Britain cruise for the QE2, and we were supposed to be going overnight to Cherbourg, but apparently the weather was too bad, or there was a lack of tugs or something, so we didn’t go there. When we went to bed the first night, I said it was a bit lumpy out, but sis said it was nothing. When we woke on the Wednesday morning, it was definitely very lumpy, with the bed going up and down lots. Sis said, “Now it’s lumpy”. We’d sailed out into a force 9 gale, but you could really hardly feel it on the ship. We went to Cobh in Southern Ireland (which used to be Queenstown) instead and did an overnight stop there. The Wednesday night at Cobh was a formal night, so I wore my new black halter neck dress, which I made while waiting to go get material at the rag market to finish my red dress.

It’s very a very pretty place, with all different coloured houses going up the hill to a very beautiful cathedral that has a spire that dominates the skyline. It was also the last stop for the Titanic on her first and last voyage, as well as the place that sent out people to rescue the survivors from the sinking of the Lusitania: Lots of seafaring history there. It was chilly, and rained a bit on and off, but I got some nice pics there, which I will try and get the Bear to post another time.

When we left Cobh on the Thursday, the pier and the whole front of the town were lined with people waving handkerchiefs, which was fabulous, and people further up in the town were waving hankies, towels and tablecloths: anything white that would be visible from the ship really. We waved hankies back. It’s a sort of family joke that you wave a hankie to people leaving, but it’s an old tradition from the days of people emigrating. Poor people didn’t have flags to wave, but they certainly had a clean hankie.

We sailed out into another bit of a blow and headed up the Irish Sea to Liverpool. It was another formal night, so I wore my red taffeta dress, which got several admiring glances and a few comments. I was accosted by a couple of members of the Titanic Historical Society who thought my dress was just the right thing for their kind of do, and asked if I was a member (which I’m not). It was quite a compliment really, although people kept standing on the train of the dress! At dinner I commented to mum about it, and we joked a bit, with me saying “I wonder how many more people are going to stand on my frock tonight!” and when we got up from dinner, I came to a sudden halt… In a quiet but firm voice my next comment was “Mother… get OFF my dress”… She’d only gone and stood on the train! I laughed about it though once she stopped standing on my hem.

We arrived in Liverpool on the Friday early afternoon and then we were bussed to the old Cathedral for a concert just for the QE2. For those who don’t know, Liverpool is the home of Cunard and has a long history with the company and it’s ships. I swear there wasn’t a dry eye in the place by the end of the concert, and it felt like a funeral for a grand old lady. The ship’s decommissioning pennant was paraded down the central aisle of the cathedral by members of the ship’s crew, led by Seco (Security officer John who likes Chocolate Buttons) and handed over to the city as a memento of the ship’s final visit. It was really nice to be there though, despite the underlying sadness of the occasion.

After the concert, I headed into the city to meet up with a friend We had a couple of drinkies and then something to eat, by which time I had to be heading back to the ship. It was really great to meet him, as we have been talking via mail and stuff for years, but never actually met in the flesh, as it were. He’s lovely, and I hope to go and see him again to meet his other half and their baby, as they couldn’t come to meet me while we were in on the ship.

We left Liverpool quite late in the evening, but there were still crowds of people standing out in the freezing cold to see us off. They were singing “The Leaving of Liverpool” and it was a gorgeous send-off. After Liverpool, we headed back out into the Irish Sea, where it was a bit lumpy yet again, and headed in to Belfast. We were accompanied for a short while on the Saturday morning by H.M.S. Ark Royal, who was sailing down the Irish Sea, but did a “handbrake turn” to sail up a little way with us. As we were entering Belfast Lough there was an air display by the Red Arrows, which would have been a bit more spectacular if the weather hadn’t been so naff. It was wet and horrible, with low cloud, but they did their stuff and included a wonderful fly-past over the ship.

Belfast was wet. Very wet. The family bailed off the ship after she docked around 2pm on the Saturday and we headed into the city centre on the courtesy busses to meet a friend of my sister’s who lives in the city now and one of my mates from the interweb. We had a couple of drinks in a very nice pub, then sis had to run off back to go on duty. The parents and I shambled back a bit slower then got the bus back. I’m still not sure if I’ve dried out! We left there very late: somewhere round eleven/midnight and the only people to see us off were the guys on some of the container ships docked where we were. They were close enough to shout to and they shouted “Thank you for visiting us” to which my mum shouted back “Thank you for having us!” We waved our hankies and flags at anyone who moved, and had a few waves in reply.

After leaving Belfast, the ship did a little detour round the Isle of Man a couple of times. There’s a couple who live there who are long-time cruisers on the ship and who are, well, I suppose the term is “happily affluent” which meant they had specifically requested the ship take one last visit past their home on the island with the fuel all paid for by the couple. They apparently also paid for a drink for every member of the crew to say “thank you” which I thought was a lovely touch. They’ve apparently been very nice cruisers, very pleasant and friendly to the crew, always polite to the staff, and never wanting to cause any fuss, but just have a nice holiday on board. Sis says they’re really down-to-earth people, and very “normal” unlike some of the super-rich cruisers, who can be quite rude.

After that brief detour, we headed up to the QE2’s “home” in Scotland. She’s a Clyde-built ship and my dad watched her being built when he lived near there with his parents. We arrived in the Clyde to glorious sunshine, as if the weather knew she was coming home for the last time and had put out the best weather to welcome her. We had hundreds of yachts, motor cruisers and even jet-skis and a couple of rowing boats in the flotilla that gathered to usher the grand old lady up to Greenock, following her up from Largs onwards and we had an escort provided by H.M.S. Manchester, flying her Sunday Ensign at the masthead, a privilege and honour reserved normally only for royalty! We were out waving our Scottish flags and getting cheers and flags waved in reply. What a fantastic welcome!

Needless to say, we didn’t get off the ship. Greenock is a spit in the eye away from where I grew up, so been there, seen it, done that and didn’t much fancy a wander round there. Besides, we had my cousin and her husband coming for lunch (minus baby B, who was left with my aunt looking after her and was last seen by her escaping parents throwing jelly at the wall. She’s almost got the hang of feeding herself, but is still at the “modern art” stage with the food) and my sister also arranged for our old schoolmate J to come for lunch as well. It was great to see her again (and I really must write a reply to her card at some point, since I nagged her about writing to me! Oops!). Sis’s friend also came, minus her dog, who is madly in love with my sister: every time he sees her, he goes mad, then has to try and sit on her or sits at her feet gazing up at her in adoration. He’s a soppy retriever who hasn’t yet worked out that he’s too big to be a lap-dog, but he does his best, bless’im.

We had a really good day with the family: lunch in the Lido, tour of the ship and afternoon tea and stickies on the funnel deck in the glorious sunshine. They really enjoyed their visit, which was great, and we have loads of pics of them on board too. Sailaway was late again, and we rushed dinner so we could get out to see the fireworks laid on, which were quite spectacular. There were loads of people lined all the way down the street to see us off, and people followed in their cars down as far as Toward Point to get a last look at the ship leaving. We stood on deck for ages waving at the last brave souls who followed in wee boats and the ones on shore who could still have seen our flags, since we were right in front of one of the spotlights that illuminated the funnel.

Monday was spent sailing up the West Coast of Scotland and round the top through between the mainland and the Orkneys, and as a sea day, Monday night was another Formal night, so I wore my red taffeta dress again. Well, I was going to wear my cream suit, but I like my red dress, so thought “why not?” I wore the cream suit to cocktails instead…

As we were heading up and round, we were passed by a Nimrod aircraft, which flew past on the Port side (left, for all you non-seafarers). He came round for another look, and then spent the better part of half an hour going round the ship. People were heading from side to side to get photographs of him as he flew about, and in the murky weather, we couldn’t always see where he was. It was windy and slightly damp, although not completely rainy, and the spray was lifting off the waves and being blown onto the deck. I was muffled to the ears and couldn’t be bothered chasing planes as dad was, so I stayed by the rail with mum, and eventually decided to grab one of the deck loungers for a quick loaf with my feet up. Not really the best weather for it (raining a bit, blowing a gale and sea-spray lifting onto the deck and getting blown about), but it was comfy enough. Dad took a photo of me there just to prove that I’m insane… Like anyone needed proof!

On Tuesday we headed down the East Coast and into South Queensferry, which is the port for Edinburgh. It was a tender port, so no crew were allowed ashore, so it was just the parents and myself who headed down to the launch to go ashore. The ship was anchored downstream from the Forth Bridge, which made a pretty picture through the porthole in sis’s cabin, and the pier was on the upstream side, but it wasn’t too far. Good job really, since it was raining (again) and the launch wasn’t totally enclosed. We had a short mooch through the town and bought a couple of things (I got a white bear, now named Hamish and a silver and marquasite (sp?) naval crown brooch) and dad took a few pics, then we headed back to the ship. We might have stayed a bit longer, but the weather was so yuk that we couldn’t be bothered.

We had very little ceremony for sailaway. It was very quiet and there weren’t too many people around to see us off. We had a few boats braving the weather in a small flotilla, but nothing to rival the welcome on the Clyde. The muck on the deck was unbelievable though as they hauled the anchor up, and they had two wee deck hands with hoses cleaning the chain and the deck as it was stowed.

Wednesday marked our arrival in Newcastle. It also marked the end of my stamina and I retired to bed with exhaustion while the other three went ashore for a look round. I thought I was coming down with something nasty, but sis declared I was just worn out after doing so much in the previous week, here and there, all over the ship, round all sorts of places, late nights and early mornings all finally ganging up on me and leaving me feeling like death warmed up. I slept most of the day, surfacing briefly to get a wee bit of food and something to drink, then went back to my bed for the rest of the day. I felt a bit better by dinner, although I didn’t eat very much and had Johann fussing over me, worrying that I hadn’t eaten very much. (I told you the service was fantastic, didn’t I?) I felt better by sailaway and went up on deck as we left the city. There were a few fireworks as we left the dock, going off on both sides of the ship, and as we passed out through the moles (long piers to protect the harbour) there were more fireworks going off in tandem from both sides. It was lovely.

Thursday was another sea day, so we just pottered around and I did some gift shopping. Dad gave me some spends, so I managed to get the things I wanted to and some bits for the Bear and his family, as he was looking after the cat while I was away. Thursday night we spent in the wardroom with some of the crew, and I have to say I stayed up way too late and had a little too much alcohol, but hell, I was on holiday…

I paid for the Thursday Night excesses on Friday. I didn’t have a hangover, possibly because I was still drunk, but I just wanted to sleep, which I did on my sister’s floor (missing breakfast, but meh, like I cared at that point) and after lunch in the wardroom, I came home with my parents who stayed over the night before heading back up home on the Saturday, and I slept most of the way up in the car. I think we were all in bed by 9 on the Friday night as we were all completely shattered.

Anyway, I have a box of souvenirs here now which I must sort out and get frames for. I have all my menus from the dinners on board, several postcards, various paperwork, some drink stirrers, a couple of boxes of matches, and a couple of very special pieces… One is a piece of the ship: part of the thrust bearing of Number Two Air Conditioning Unit that ceased to function and was replaced in June. The other is one of the limited edition Final Farewell plates: it’s black with a gold compass rim and a gold QE2 silhouette in the middle. It’s even more special because it is signed by the Captain, Ian McNaught, his secretary, Andrea, the Navigator, Donal and by Commodore Warwick, a previous captain of the ship. I plan to get my sister to sign it as well. Not just a limited edition plate, but now a unique plate that I will treasure. If anyone looks at it funny, I will poke their eyes out with a blunt stick. Anyone touching it without my express permission will have fingers broken, and anyone even mentioning eBay will have their tongue chopped off and will be picking their teeth off the floor… I jest, but only just… It’s not something I want to part with. I’m not interested in the value of the plate itself, because to me it is priceless and irreplaceable, a memory of a wonderful holiday on a beautiful ship with a crew I cannot fault.

Talking of which, I made a few friends in the crew simply by wandering up to people like the wee guys mending the deck or the waiter who cleared the tables in the Pavilion, and speaking to them, complimenting them on their ship and how fantastic she is. The QE2 is one of the best cared-for ships I have ever seen, and everyone takes such pride in their work, even down to the people who make up the rooms or hoover the corridors. Their smiles are genuine, they are attentive and care for the passengers in a way that is outstanding and has given the QE2 the reputation she has. Sadly she is sailing to Dubai to become a hotel ending her 41 years as an ocean liner, the last of her class and the last of her standards.

The Queen Mary 2 is taking over the flagship role, and while I have heard good things about the food, I’ve not heard such great praise for the service. She’s no Elizabeth, that’s for sure! The QE2’s replacements are mere cruise liners, floating luxury hotels with the grace and elegance of a duck when compared to the sleek lines of the QE2. She was built to cross the Atlantic in any weather, in any sea-state and is still the fastest ship in the fleet no matter what the weather. There are photographs of her taken from the Queen Victoria as they crossed the Atlantic in tandem: in one photograph, her bow is raised high as she crests a wave, the red of her anti-fouling paint clearly visible along her length to near the stern as she rears free of the swell. In the next photograph her bow is down, ploughing into the next wave, the water almost over the bow before it breaks into a lashing spray, hammering the superstructure of bridge and forward decks.

Passengers and crew on board were only vaguely aware of the motion and the passengers were certainly unaware for the most part how much of the ship was appearing and disappearing in the North Atlantic storm swell. The ship was designed to cut through the waves, pivoting on her stern to leave the movement of the ship much smoother than her new companions. The Victoria apparently suffered damage to her interiors as the ship rolled and wallowed, panelling coming loose from its housing and so on, and many cases of seasickness on board because of the movement of the ship. She waddled gracelessly alongside her stable-mate who serenely cut through the gales with apparently effortless ease.

Ah well, I have fulfilled one of my life’s ambitions: to cruise on the QE2. It was fabulous, and frankly I wish that I could have taken some of my friends along for the experience. Maybe one day when I’m rich (don’t hold your breath…) I shall take my friends on a holiday, and we girls can giggle our way through bottles of champagne while the men of the party go lose money in the casino.

And so, here I am, back on dry land and feeling slightly cheated. Ten days of abject luxury in very salubrious surroundings, and now I’m sat here almost a month later, in my wee flat with my stuff all over the place because I don’t have enough storage, living on fresh air (well, not quite, but I have rediscovered the art of looking in the cupboards, seeing just about nothing in there and managing to make a decent meal out of it, although admittedly I’m fairly lazy sometimes and have cereal when I can’t be bothered) and generally wishing the divorce and settlement would hurry up and get finished so I can move on.

In the meantime I have found the pattern and material for a friend’s dress, so I shall be making that and then hopefully getting on with some more sewing, as I have a christening gown to make for her new great-grandson, born the day before yesterday (it’s Wednesday 5th November as I write this and I’m surrounded by fireworks going off all over the place). After that I have a couple of other things I want to make with the material I have already, and then I’m a bit stuck: I have things to make that I don’t have the material for, and currently can’t afford to buy the material… I’ll work it out somehow.

Tomorrow I am going to help the Bear with some plumbing things, then next week we are hopefully going to fit a fire for a friend of mine, so that’s another couple of days off the calendar. I have the party the weekend after, and I’ve been invited up to another friend’s for a few days at the end of the month. All I have to do is deal with the bits in between when I’m not so cheerfully employed being the visitor or friend. The bits where it’s just the cat and me tend to be where it goes a bit pear-shaped, but I’m still taking my tablets and trying to keep myself busy.

It’s almost a year to the day… I’m still alive… I should probably get some sort of medal for managing to achieve that much. For now, I’m going to go to bed and take the little tablet that stops me thinking for a few hours and lets me sleep…

Another Day...

2008-10-25T11:16:00.002+01:00

...Anther post. Shocking. I've been absent for ages and now I post twice in as many days. The joys of visiting friends with the internet.

More rubbish in a minute, but first a quick reply to a friend: Puss, don't worry about it. I've not been great at writing to anyone of late either. Come visit if you need a break and can get away. x

Anyway, meanwhile back at the ranch...

Certain places and certain company seem to drag my mind back to times and places that I try and keep my thoughts away from, and right now I'm in the wrong place and with the wrong people to keep my mind off what's doing with the life I left behind, but I can't avoid it forever. I'm a lot better than I was the last time I was here on my own: at that point I was ready to do something I shouldn't, but now I just feel sad and alone.

By the way, please don't do the "poor you, lemme give you a hug" thing, because that just makes me worse...

I suppose it will get better with time. I tried to avoid the subject yesterday (how good was I at that too?) but it's been niggling at me worse and worse. Himself and I have reached a point where we seem not to be sniping at each other, which is a better place to be, but after so long, it's difficult to do without him at times. He knows how I feel.

A well, I should quit while I'm ahead. I suppose I just miss a lot of things that I can't have back, and can't change things that I wish I could.

I'll try and be more cheerful next time.

Still Alive...

2008-10-25T00:53:00.003+01:00

Yep, I still exist. I still don't have the internet, but I don't really miss it. I've been so busy with one thing or another of late I haven't even made it to the Library recently, and nor have I managed to type anything worthwhile on my computer either.

Well, I say I've been busy... I've mostly been trying to sort out things for the holiday I had recently (more about that another time) and generally trying to make my house habitable again. I've failed miserably on that one, which means I get really miserable because my house is a tip, so a couple of days last week I lived in my bedroom, only coming out to go to the toilet or fetch food.

I went for a job recently too... Just a part-time thing doing 14 hours a week as a seamstress, but that fell flat, because I was away on my hols while the woman was seeing people, so the job had gone before I even got interviewed. Great, huh? So I'm still unemployed and feeling more shitty because of the job thing and not feeling great about my skills again. Not to worry, I have small jobs lined up in the sewing department that will keep me busy enough at home, although they won't be leaving me flush with cash.

I hate being skint. I've been getting used to it, but it's still not a great way to live. I'd much rather have a wee bit more cash in my pocket every month and be able to just go and buy the material I need for all the jobs I have rather than having to do one, get paid, do another, get paid, do another... you can see a pattern... I'm thinking I may have to move out of my wee flat to somewhere cheaper, but that thought fills me with dread, because I'd have to pack up my life once again, just when I was starting to sort things out. The problem is that the benefits I get to pay for my rent don't cover it, so half of the money that's supposed to be for me to live on each week has to go towards the shortfall. I can't keep up with things the way it is, and it's not going to get any better over time either. My only option at the moment is to move.

For the record, I'm still sick, still stuck in my flat for too many hours a week, have the social life of a dead dog and generally hate life at the moment. I'll get over it as soon as things improve. I just wish that would be sooner rather than later.

Oh Hell…

2008-08-21T02:24:00.000+01:00

I had a long blog typed, but can’t be arsed. Paul is a thorn in my side, and frankly is talking a load of shit and most of it is the pot calling the kettle black.

If he’s going to complain and bitch, he should at least make sure he’s not doing worse first.

If he wants the garage key back, he can phone me and ask for it. He knows not to get his solicitor to write to mine, because I tend not to get those messages. He’s wasting his money, but that’s his call. I’ve already told him this, but he seems content to keep paying his solicitor to chase mine when he’s been told more than once that mine has a huge caseload, and isn’t going to speed up anything just for Paul and his snotty solicitor (OK, so it’s her secretary that was snotty to me on the phone, but you get the idea).

If he wants to complain about not being able to put stuff in the garage, he shouldn’t tell me that everything is in there so that I believe it’s OK for me to keep the key, as he won’t need it.

If he wants to complain about me not speaking till the end of Beltring and then after, he should replay in his mind the conversation where I told him that I wanted to speak, but the Bear stopped me saying that Paul probably didn’t want to speak to me. I spoke to Paul on the Tuesday when we got there, but got scowled at, and then blanked, so there you go. I made an attempt. He should also remember telling me that he didn’t want to speak to me anyway, and the strained “hi” was the only word he said he could possibly say to me there, and that was on the last night of the show. He managed to talk to me fine when it was wasting my phone credit however.

If he wants to complain about the content of any of my conversations at Beltring, let him. He’s probably referring to the conversation where I said I had quadrupled the number of times I’d had sex at Beltring, because in 7 years, he only managed to do it once (with me at least). I wasn’t aware he was in earshot or I would have said nothing, and Bear and I were very circumspect about our physical contact with each other at Beltring so as not to rub Paul’s nose in it, unlike some people who were busy eating a “model’s” face off in front of me. (She’s not a model. She’s just a wannabe)

If he wants to complain about me spending time under canvas with the Bear, he shouldn’t spend a “long time” in his tent with some bird at Beltring and shouldn’t have a “fat brunette” (direct quote from a friend of mine who was there, and someone else asked if she was his mother…) in his tent at his latest off road meet. He also shouldn’t have women (single, married… It seems he’s not fussy) round the house all the time, or be round seeing other women most nights he’s free. At least I’m sticking to one bloke, not shagging my way through the entire male population of my local area. I have nothing to prove.

If he wants to play coy about his sex life, let him, because people speak to me. They actually like me, and tell me things without prompting or me digging for information. I’ve heard enough about his sex life to keep me wondering WHY I would still take him back. Since leaving Paul, I’ve begun to think he needs to start looking at his friends and working out why, if they’re his friends, they tell me all this stuff. Also, if they’re his friends, why am I being told they’d rather have me around than him? Some have even said they only put up with him because of me, and I’m not just talking about my friends in Wales either. If he shut up about trains and work, not forgetting how much better he is at everything than everyone else, people might actually like him rather than him being the butt of jokes. For some reason, I’d like to try to re-educate him, but that’s because I’m a nice person, and it’s not nice to think he classes some people as friends, and they are just laughing behind his back. I did my share of that however, but I have a right, since husbands and wives make fun of each other occasionally.

If he wants to complain about the Bear, he can go right ahead. It’s no skin off Bear’s nose. He didn’t run off with me though and we had a perfectly good relationship forming while I still lived with Paul. That relationship with Bear was fine as it was. I didn’t need to (or want to) leave home, because I was happy with the way things were (I left purely because of the violence, not the Bear), and besides, leaving meant I had nowhere to go as Bear lives with his family. Paul should also remember that HE was the one that said I could get it elsewhere and that it was OK for me to have a relationship with the Bear.

If he wants to keep deluding himself that he is not at fault for me leaving, let him. He said he had been for counselling to deal with his temper problems, and if that were the case, his counsellor would have got him to admit his problem and the results of it (bruises and a nearly broken neck for me…). He would be able to face facts rather than living in an airy-fairy land.

If he wants to threaten me with a restraining order ten days after I had stopped speaking to him, let him try. I will respond with a libel suit for him calling me a stalker when I had left it to him to contact me and apologised for being keen about speaking to him.

If he wants to complain that one minute he’s the “Spawn of Satan” and the next minute I love him and want to continue the marriage, perhaps he has a lot to learn about love. (look it up petal… www.dictionary.com). I do still love him, but he’s got a nasty habit of doing things to hurt me, so he shouldn’t be too surprised that I call him names sometimes.

If he wants to compare our situation with that of my previous relationship, he should remember that D never lifted a finger to me, just to the furniture. He should also remember that I binned D because of his temper (a possible similarity there…) and D stayed in the house for a couple of weeks after, but I left Paul in a hurry. If it had been planned, I wouldn’t be sitting here working out how and when to fetch the remainder of my belongings. I’d have cleared the house of everything of mine when I went.

If he wants to accuse me of stealing paperwork, he’s more than welcome to send an impartial representative round here to search for it. No paperwork was thrown out or stolen by either the Bear or myself. It was put on shelves or beside his computer, if he cares to actually look for it. If he’s referring to the V5 for one of the vehicles, then I’ve not seen that since last August. He’d filled it out in his name for a vehicle that was supposed to be mine, and it was sat next to his computer monitor on a pile of other papers

If he wants to make accusations, comments and threats, he should not be such a coward and learn to say it to me directly rather than backstabbing me via his blog. (Yep, I just called you out Paul. Be a man and bring it on. If you raise a hand to me one more time, you’ll be locked up quicker than I can say: “mince”). He had the chance to air his grievances at Beltring, and since then, but he’s just whined in print on his blog.

If he wants to keep being the victim in everything, that’s his choice, not a way he HAS to live.

So why do I care? Well, it’s hard not to after being with him so long. He says he wants a settled life. Perhaps that’s all I want too. I’d love to have a settled life, but while I have all this mental garbage kicking around in my head, I’m not going to get one.
I think I’ll go get on with sewing. I have lots to do and can’t spend my entire life wrapped up in issues that Paul keeps dragging up. He wants a settled life, but then claims stalking and harassment and threatens restraining orders. He wants a settled life, but goads my best mate by accusing her of “help(ing) her (my) screaming inner demons” when all she’s done is comfort me, talk to me and actually encouraged me to try to sort out my marriage when he beat me black and blue. I was willing to sort it for the record. Paul didn’t seem interested. He wants a settled life, but while there is the possibility that I might decide to stop playing nice and go back to the police and continue the process started in Andover (The police wanted to follow it up then, but I was being too nice for my own good), then he’s not going to get one. He wants a settled life, but just opened himself up to prosecution for libel.

If he wants a settled life, he’s going to have to learn to play nice and stop blaming everyone else for something that’s entirely his fault. I would like a settled life, but ain’t going to get it while he’s being like this. We both want a settled life, so why not give each other what we both seem to need: explanations, answers, communication and above all understanding. I’m ready to listen, but it’s never been one of his strong points.

At the moment it seems to me that I am his only true friend (not counting his relatives), as I still like and love the Paul I married. Sadly that Paul has been covered by the violent wife-beater he became. He still dons his shining armour to help damsels in distress, but that’s only to play “hero” to those people he chooses to help. He neglected and beat the person who was closest to him and needed his help the most, and still I feel the need to want to help him get back to being the Paul I know is still under that violent, self-serving, shallow façade. Even if our marriage is ending through divorce, perhaps my help will stop him repeating his mistakes, someone else getting hurt, and him having to go through his life always looking for something and never getting it because of what he becomes. Ultimately he is the one who will suffer if he doesn’t accept the help being offered, not just by me as a friend, but by professional bodies more trained to deal with the problems he has.

Yep, I’ve gone from being annoyed at his recent escapades and comments to compassion, but I would hate to see him become a broken man for want of a little compassion and a little acceptance by Paul that he needs to take a good look at the way his life is heading if he doesn’t do something about it. I don’t know if the Paul I fell in love with is the “real” Paul, or whether that is the one that ultimately drove me away from him. I know which I would prefer, as the Paul I fell in love with was caring, considerate and generally a very nice person to be around. He was like that with me for so long that I put up with the nasty side for the remainder of our marriage together in the hope that one day the Paul I married would be dominant once again. Maybe he will, but by then I think it will be too late to salvage anything more than just a casual friendship from the ruins of our marriage.

Same shit, different day

2008-08-18T14:18:00.002+01:00

Well, his blog is complaining of me being a stalker, threatening restraining orders etc.

I have not spoken to him, contacted him or made any attempt to get him to contact me since I last spoke to him via text message on the 7th August. My last text was an apology for being too keen and leaving him to contact me if he wants. That was 11 days ago. 10 days before his blog entry. I sent 20 text messages and received 9 in response over a period between the 22nd July and the last message on the 7th August. That's a period of 16 days and several of those texts covered two conversations on two different days. I phoned him on the 22nd July and he ASKED me to call him back because he was busy. I checked by text that he was happy still for me to contact him, as I wondered if I was doing the right thing and whether he wanted to speak to me.

I had the reply text of "I'm free now" so I called him. He had his get-out clause right there at the start. We spoke and things seemed OK as far as I could tell. OK, so I got a bit happy that we could actually speak to one another without biting each other's heads off. I phoned one night when he was just home, and I apologised and text the apology as well, asking if he was free for a chat to contact me. He didn't contact me so I didn't push it.

I tried phoning him the night I overdosed on my temazepam. He was driving to his parents and ASKED me to phone him back at half eight. By then I was unconscious so apologised the next day by text for not phoning. I was told at that point he was looking out for number one, I hadn't overdosed because I was still alive and that he didn't care about what I thought or felt, as he had apparently cared for the last 7 years according to him. I think I missed some of that, as for the last couple of years it seemed like he couldn't care less when he didn't feel like it.

The last phone call was on the 6th August. We spoke for a while, but I felt like he was making he right noises in the right places. I tried getting him to understand how I felt and that to have closure, there's a lot of answers that are missing.

I realised that he wasn't that interested the next day when I thought about the conversation again. I sent a text telling him what I thought and that I would leave contact up to him. He responded that he felt like I had been stalking him, and I apologised and once again left it to him to contact me.

I sent one e-mail in all that time just to explain that I may not be able to phone him again as speaking to him had left me with more confusion than it solved. I was able to speak to him as it happens, and it was a very polite, light-hearted mail, not stalkerish in any way.

I thought that was the end of it, but it's taken him ten days to come back and paint me as a crazed stalker and to play the victim. He's very good at playing the victim.

He's complained about the garage not being emptied and him not being able to put stuff in because I have the key. I was told the garage needed cleared as he had put ALL my stuff in it, and I had to speak to the neighbours to get access to the garage. Now it seems that all my things aren't in the garage and he needs the key to put it in. I didn't want to bother the neighbours every time I wanted in to the garage and have to arrange with them every time I wanted to try getting there. I have to be free with money, the Bear has to be free and the neighbours have to be in. All of those things have to be there for me to get into the garage if I don't have a key. I'm dealing with the neighbours and they told me it was OK for me to have the key.

As for his love life... It's not speculation, it's fact. He's slept with someone else's wife. He's messed with someone else's girlfriend. I wonder what Simon and Jamie would say if they knew what Paul had been up to with their respective other halves. It's pathetic when you put those together with his whiny complaint in the divorce about me saying I wanted to have sex with another man. To be honest sex with ANY man would have been good. Sex with my husband would have been exactly what I wanted, but he OFFERED to let me have an affair. I ASKED him six months after the offer was first made and after it had been discussed again, if an affair with the Bear would be acceptable. He said it would be fine. He SANCTIONED my affair with the Bear. According to Paul, sexually he was "dysfunctional" as a husband, and so I could have a substitute.

He's a liar, a cheat and a vicious bastard. I have no sympathy for him any more. I have my answer: He may have cared once, but I wasn't deviant enough for his twisted tastes that's left at least one woman with bruises following a night in the house with him. He stopped caring years ago and was too much of a coward to say so. He knew I am entitled to a fair chunk of settlement money from the divorce, and perhaps that's why he kept me around for so long, thinking that if I left for another man, he could weasel out of the settlement.

He ASKED ME to drop my financial claims against him for the same consideration on his side.

Sadly I left because he's violent, so the blame is entirely his. He has made his bed, he can lie in it, unless of course he has to sell it to pay the settlement and pay his solicitor.

Home again…

2008-08-16T00:24:00.000+01:00

Slightly earlier than planned. Well, a lot earlier than planned. I was supposed to be staying in Wales till Tuesday, but it’s Thursday now and I came home yesterday.

I thought I would be all right, staying with two of my best friends in a nice peaceful place, but it seems that I can’t cope very well with being away from home yet. I went on Sunday, and by Tuesday afternoon I had to phone the Emergency Duty Team of my mental health clinic. That at least gave me a coping mechanism to stop me doing anything really drastic.

I was doing OK till we went to a market town and I managed to get separated from my friends. I started getting quite anxious about being on my own, and then started feeling very hemmed in by all the other people there. I managed to get back to my friends, but was still not feeling very happy about being in a crowd. I stuck to the clearer bits while they mooched the stalls. The bit that really made me decide to phone someone was when we were coming home and a hearse passed us going the other way. My thought was that it would be nice to be the one in the box, not to have to face anything any more, to have everything stop: no more painful memories or feelings that hurt and confuse me, just an end to everything.

I spoke to the EDT for some time and that calmed me enough to stop me wanting to be the one in the box, but I still wasn’t doing very well. I thought I could cope with it and get through the mess in my head, but I couldn’t. I spoke to my friend at length about why I was feeling the way I was, talking about Paul and my feelings for him that were confusing me. She was very understanding about it all and let me ramble on, asking a few questions here and there to clarify some things, but generally sitting being a sympathetic ear. She’s not happy with Paul after I finally told her everything that had gone on, but she understands my feelings for him, and the fact that I care.

I spoke to my friend for a long time, trying to explain why I was anxious, upset and generally feeling very uneasy and in mental pain. I thought talking with her would help, but I think it made it a little worse, just because I was having to admit all of these things to someone who knows me very well. She asked what I wanted to do about it all, and my only response was that I felt like digging my nails into my elbow and peeling the skin off my arm… She phoned the local EDT and made me speak to them for a while. The guy there was very helpful and calmed me down by talking about things from an outsiders point of view, although he said if I was feeling in the slightest like I would self-harm or try doing worse, I should hand myself in to the nearest Accident and Emergency. My friends hid my meds too, just in case…

The Bear came and got me yesterday because I wanted to come home. I felt bad having to leave just short of a week early, but my friends understood. Everyone’s been very understanding that I’ve spoken to about this, and it makes me feel worse sometimes that I’m having to put people out so much by them having to cope with me while I’m not rational, or having to come and fetch me because I’m too unstable to be out my house for very long.

I went to my clinic today and spoke to one of the duty nurses there about things, and she’s going to speak to my regular counsellor. Apparently he’s just a Clinical Nurse Specialist… I thought he was a proper doctor type thing, but apparently not. The nurse I spoke to today decided I would probably benefit from speaking to one of their mental health consultants, so that’s going to be set up for me. In the mean time, I just have to do what I can to keep myself from doing silly things, and hand myself in if I feel like I’m going to harm myself in any way, before I do it rather than after the fact. I’ve also been given leaflets to read about sleeping and relaxation to help me through the stressful times as well as a soothing thing, which was described as like putting cream on a cut, but it’s like a soothing thing for the mind.

I do feel a bit frustrated because I’m so good at helping others but can’t do it for myself. I make the wrong decisions when it comes to me, and I get into situations mentally that I shouldn’t. There’s no rational reason for some of the things I think or do, but I can’t seem to stop myself. It’s like wanting to speak to Paul: I phoned and text him too much, and annoyed or upset him, so I’ve had to decide to leave it to him to contact me when he feels he wants to. There are a lot of issues that need to be resolved, but the truth may never be told, because circumstance means that there’s a lot that can’t be said.

All I would really like is for my husband to care. I’ve seen him care for others, and he talked about caring about me, but he mostly left me alone to deal with things. I’m not sure if that’s because he didn’t really care, or because he didn’t know how to deal with the situations. Perhaps some of the things were too close to home, like me not being able to solve my problems the way I can solve other people’s issues. Perhaps too his idea of caring differs from mine. I don’t know.

I suppose it will take time to sort out what’s making me feel like I can’t go on or that I want to hurt myself. There must be a reason behind what I’m doing, and it may not be a terribly logical one, but I’m starting to feel like I’m clutching at straws sometimes. I thought that speaking to Paul might help, but I don’t know if he wanted to talk, or if he was just doing it because he didn’t know how to tell me to get lost.

The only things I am certain of now are that my family loves me, my pets love me, the Bear loves me very much, cares a great deal and wants to help any way he can, and finally, if I do end up doing something really pointless, I want to be buried in the dress I wore when I married Paul. The rest is just confusion. I am going to get help. I’ve been for help. I’ve asked for help and I’ve had lots of people talk to me and offer support. I have to try and carry on, and not have to wear my wedding dress again for quite some time to come.

Final thought for today: Love hurts, but you can’t control who you fall in love with.

Well, that was yesterday and now it’s Friday…

Today has been better. I managed to go down to the newsagents to get milk and to the florists to spoil myself with some oriental lilies. I did it all on my own too, and I’ve been sewing this afternoon.

It’s a brighter day, but I feel the storm clouds looming on the horizon. It’s strange that I can sense it coming, but feel powerless to halt the approach. I shall carry on till the storm hits, then try to weather it the best I can. I don’t know when it will happen; I only know that it is coming, like my headaches before a thunderstorm.

The Bear is strictly controlling my medicines. He leaves me two days supply and hates the fact that I cannot be trusted with my own medicines. I don’t even have any asprin in the house in case of headaches. If I get one, I will just have to put up with it. He was advised to take anything sharp out the house, but that’s not possible given that I sew and cook. He reasons that if I want to hurt myself, I will find a way to do it. I’m hoping that if it gets that bad, I will realise it and will hand myself in before doing any damage.

For now though, I have medieval costume to make: a dress for my friend, one for a little girl, a couple of shirts, a pair of braes, two monks habits and a dress for myself. I’m most of the way through my friend’s dress and have the other two dresses cut ready to be sewn. Once they’re done I’ll get on with the rest of it, although I have to source material for the monastic stuff before I can get on with that. One of my friends wants to be a friar, so he can swear and ogle the wenches. I told him to read Nietzsche because he’s overweight, then he could be a deep fat friar… Get it? Oh, never mind…

I know, my jokes aren’t up to much these days. I do my best though…

Thought for today: The past is the father of the present. What happened to us before dictates what we are in the now. We have some small influence over things, but the mind will take us on paths of its own devising to places we may not like, but ultimately have to pass through to journey on into the future.

Tired

2008-08-11T00:03:00.002+01:00

I'm tired. It's half midnight as I start writing this and I really could do with some kip. Sadly although I'm tired, I'm not sleepy. I will have to take one of my sleeping tablets for that to happen.

I'm currently in Wales visiting friends. They've long since gone to bed leaving me here on the net just mooching around. I wasn't originally going to come, because I need to see the doc and get some more meds, but I can probably get them here from the local doctor on a temporary resident thing. I'm also a little anxious because I'm away from home again, and that sort of thing has my nerves a bit on edge lately. I have my little teddy bear with me though, so I at least have something to keep me a little sane. My Bear is at his place and will be feeding and watering the animals while I'm not home, so they're being looked after while I'm away.

It's funny really... When I'm home I can think of loads to say, but being away from home has me all clammed up. Ah well, short post for a change... Things will get back to normal once I get home.

Thought for today: I need a hug...

The Procrastinator Strikes Back…

2008-08-10T17:41:00.000+01:00

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

OK, so it was earlier and in Birmingham… Stop being picky…

Anyway, I’m procrastinating again. I started sorting through all the stuff I hadn’t sorted through previously and am now sitting looking at a floor full of mess… Well, a few empty boxes and a couple of boxes of stuff that need to find a home. I could do with a loft space, but then I’d just fill it up and nothing would ever come down again till I moved house, same as every other loft/attic in the universe. When I get my own place, if it has a loft, I will make sure it is turned into accessible storage space for me to put things and still get at them. Meanwhile I will just have to find spaces to put things out the way, although the storage problems will be alleviated once I get my bed back and can store stuff under it, unlike my current bed with no storage space at all under it.

I’ve also managed to launder all my christening gowns, and have just a couple left to iron, then I’ll sort out either storage or sale of them. Once I’m a bit more organised, I shall be back to making them, since I now have a lot of my material back and have even organised it, as I said before. My next plan is to work out where to put some of the hangy-up stuff that I’ve retrieved from the garage. There’s a picture of cats and a couple of cross-stitch pictures, one done by my mum for my first marriage, and the other, which used to live above our bed, a cross-stitch heart that was given to Paul and me for a wedding present nearly 7 years ago now by friends from Germany. I think those ones will end up in the bedroom with the other cross-stitch pics and the cats may well end up in the toilet, since that’s where all my quirky stuff seems to end up.

There’s loads more in the garage to be sorted through, and I suspect a local charity shop may end up with a sizable donation in the not too distant future. There’s a lot of furniture in there that I don’t really have room for (although I could do with some of it) and a load of books that I was going to give to charity anyway as I was sorting through the house. I did have plans to be ruthless with myself and throw a whole lot out, but my sudden departure sort of put a stop to me doing that, and subsequent developments meant that Paul had to do it. I did offer to help, but I was turned down (well, the offer wasn’t taken up or mentioned afterwards). There’s still stuff of mine in the house according to Paul, but we will have to arrange to sort that out when he’s not busy, Bear’s not busy and I’m not skint.

I have been talking to Paul by text and phone calls, but sadly I was a little too over-eager and he felt a bit like I was stalking him. I think I was just pleased to be speaking to him again and overdid things a bit, so I have apologised for that and left it to him to contact me if he wants. We used to speak every day, even if it was just about his work or him being bored at work, and I hadn’t spoken to him for 9 months. I’ve written mails and texts and not sent them in the past and thought about phoning him, but didn’t. It was just nice to be able to speak to him again, even though he wasn’t being very communicative sometimes, especially on the phone, about how he is and how he’s getting on. I still care for him, and as have said, am still in love with the man I married, however I am now in a more realistic frame of mind, and have realised that he’s having more fun now I’m not there, and doesn’t need me or want me back as his partner. I’ve also realised that being away from him has softened my temperament, made me more open and communicative with people, and has started me on the road to being able to like myself and appreciate my own skills.

I’m very grateful as well to everyone who has supported me in the past and who are still offering their support, especially those who have had their own problems to deal with but have still made the time for me. I apologise if I was stubborn and annoying, selfish or seemed not to be listening at the time. I’m really glad that you lot persisted and stuck around (although it might just be morbid curiosity at what I’m going to do next that keeps you around… you know, like a bad film that you just can’t stop watching because you can’t believe it’s just that bad…) and I am blessed to have the friends I do. I’ve made about a handful of acquaintances around here, but so far no real friends. I think I’ve been leaving that while I’m in the state of mind I’m in at the moment, because I’m still agoraphobic at times (sometimes even going down to the hall to check the mail is a little too much for me and the street door is always locked so I know I’m safe, but just can’t face it) and the only time I go outside is onto the balcony at the back to smoke. I won’t smoke in the house because I dislike the smell of it, and I plan to give up once I’ve got myself sorted. It costs too much for a start, but it is my one bad habit, and I don’t think I need the stress of giving up cigarettes on top of the rest of the stress about divorce, money, my mental state and all the rest of it. At least it gets me out the house when I’m having one of those days where I can hardly even get out of bed, and having to go outside doesn’t half cut down my consumption of them, because half the time it’s raining, and I can’t be bothered getting wet…

Well, it’s now later in the day and I am still procrastinating about the stuff in the living room. Instead of tidying I have gone down to see the neighbours about the break-in at the garage last night, bought some more milk, entertained the Bear who turned up just as I came out the shop with the milk (we’ve been sat chatting for a while about photographs and stuff) and I just made food for both of us. We had scampi with sliced tinned potatoes fried with onion, garlic, parsley, crab sticks and a little salt and pepper. It was a very nice experiment in “Shit, what do I cook. I don’t have much in and the freezer just threw a wobbly and is defrosting and it looks like the stuff at the back may be only fit for the bin” but it seemed to work well. I must write it down somewhere… I was going to do savoury pancakes, but the mince was a funny shade of grey and I don’t have any eggs. The mince was the first indication that the freezer wasn’t working, and the soft bacon covered in big ice crystals was the second. Fortunately it only seems to be the back that’s affected, so the scampi and crabsticks were fine.

Ooooh… Someone is about to hate me… (Yes Angel, that would be you. Do try to keep from getting too green) I’M GOING ON THE QE2!!! Did I mention that before? I’m sure I did somewhere… My sister is putting in the chit for my cruise today. It’s not the one I’d hoped for, but it’s STILL A CRUISE ON THE QE2!!! HA! Suck on that one Bitch!!!! I’ll send you a postcard to make sure you’re jealous… Ten days of absolute luxury, swanning round in posh clothes, mingling with millionaires and famous people with fabulous food and lashings of ginger beer! Well, that might be a bit Enid Blyton, but apparently it’s rather nice with rum in it…

So that will be me getting four holidays this year… I had the fortnight at Beltring last month, I’m away for a weekend with one of my mates in a few weeks (I’m letting him pay for the hotel, although I might buy him an ice cream at the beach) I’m off on my CRUISE on the QE2 (did I mention that one? I’m sure I did at some point…) and the family (mummy, daddy and us two little sisters) have been invited to spend a few days round Christmas in Germany with friends.

Well, that was yesterday. The living room is looking much tidier, although not as clean as I like it I still have a load of tubs of sewing things to find homes for yet, as well as some books to sort through. I really need to sift through all my photos at some point as well and chuck out the rubbish ones, and then be ruthless with myself about the stuff I already have in my house. I’m just a little short of storage space, although I plan to rearrange things so I make the most of the shelves and things I’ve got already. I still think I need a bigger house…

Ah well, I’m going to Wales to help my mate with a load of sewing… I may manage to get online while I’m there if I can squeeze her off the computer or I’ll use her lappy or something. It wasn’t really planned so I’ve just been packing and need to finish this off for the Bear to post.

Another holiday! Wheeeeeee! That makes 5 this year, although I’m going to be sewing during this one. It’s still a break at the end of the day…

Another day…

2008-08-08T01:54:00.000+01:00

Another blog to bore the pants off you good people who are daft enough to want to read this stuff…

Well, what can I say? I hope the Bear managed to put that pic on my last blog entry and I hope you all liked it. I was pleased as punch when I saw little B in her gown, and she seemed to like it too. Cute as a button, ain’t she?

As you may or may not be able to tell, things are a little more upbeat here in the one-bedroom flat at the furthest edge of the universe from any excitement. There’s little or nothing going on here as per usual, but I’m having a very cheerful day. My pessimistic side doesn’t expect it to last, so enjoy it while you can, people.

So far today I have done about the sum total of nothing other than the usual daily chores that fall to those who live on their own and don’t have someone else to make the tea occasionally. I should really be doing some work, but it’s kinda late and I don’t like disturbing my downstairs neighbour with my sewing machines after about 8 in the evening. I could be cutting out some cushion covers that I have to make for my florist friend downstairs, but meh, I’m feeling idle.

Well, I just had a great chat with my mate in Wales, which was an absolute scream. I relayed the events with the temazepam in a completely comic fashion and we were both in stitches (my description of me wandering around like a zombie trying to do stuff while the Bear was trying to get me to lie down in bed before I fell down had her practically beating the carpet… She knows me well enough to understand the why) and it was really good to talk to her. I have also been asked to be Matron of Honour at her wedding blessing next year, which I’m really pleased about, although I’m going to be making the dresses I think. Oh well, at least it might keep me out of mischief.

I’ve also got to get to the doctors sooner rather than later. My other doctor has basically told me to go away since I don’t live in their catchment area, so I have to register at another practice, which is a pain in the butt frankly. I’m a bit short of my antidepressants since they only gave me a normal month’s supply, but then said I had to double the dose, so that’s not good. That might be what’s causing my current permanent grin. I’m certainly too bloody chirpy by half today with all that’s been going on recently, so I shall see what the doc thinks once I can get in to see one. Don’t hold your breath…

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

Men… Who’d have them? I phoned Paul earlier and he was just home, so I apologised and said I wouldn’t disturb and that was that. I sent a text after a suitable period of time apologising again, saying I thought it was later than it was, and if he was free for a chat to let me know. Nothing… Not a word from him. Mind you, I don’t really expect it to be honest, because he’s still Mr Grumpy-Chops about me not phoning him on Sunday. I was only going to say out of courtesy that we have plans to go down tomorrow hopefully to start sorting out my crap in the garage and that we would hopefully not be there by the time he got home unless he wanted me to hang around for any reason. Well, you never know… Anyway, I shall contact him tomorrow if we are on our way down, just to let him know, and I’ll probably take a couple of things of his that I have here back to him as well, because I’m nice like that. The only problem there would be that I can’t post a mug through his letterbox and I was going to ask the neighbours if I could keep the garage keys till I can get everything sorted and shifted, just to make it easier since they’re not always there. That means I wouldn’t be able to leave any of his things in the garage for him either… I’m also presuming there must be some mail in the house for me as well, so it would be nice to find out what’s still going there and get it redirected.

Call me stupid (I can hear the chorus already, so don’t you lot start…) but I wouldn’t mind seeing him and speaking to him anyway…

Well, that was Tuesday and now it’s Thursday. Still a bit too chipper to be anything approaching sane, but it’s all good. It’s better than being a miserable cow anyway. Well, apart from anything else I turned my living room into something resembling the wake of a tornado. I’ve been sorting through boxes of material, paperwork and goodness knows what else. I found old cards from my birthdays, old letters from my first husband when we were courting (and god, were they sweet. He’s a lovely bloke, and it was nice to take a wee stroll down memory lane again) and I found about a million photographs, most of which I had forgotten about with several pics of various exes over the years. Isn’t it strange to look back at people you’ve gone out with and think, “Oh my god, did I ever go out with that?” or “Wow… Well, I can see why I fancied the arse off him!” My first husband had long hair back then, and now has it short. If you’re reading this, keep it short Baby Dragon, because it suits you a lot better but you’re still cute! Oh, and you’re still a few sandwiches short of a picnic for marrying me in the first place… hehehe Love you really Baby Dragon!

One of my exes, PN, was a very, very, VERY gorgeous bloke, and I still think on my time with him with fondness. We didn’t always get on too well, but I remember going sailing, playing golf (badly on my part) and knocking about with his little brother and sister a lot. We had fun… I’ve always kept a photo of him in my wallet for no really good reason other than to show off what a gorgeous bloke I went out with when I was many years younger and for an occasional smile at fond memories. I found loads of photos of him today, and they really brought a smile to my face remembering having the photos taken or taking them of him.

So many photos and so many memories… I really need to sort them out at some point, but it’s something I’ll get to in the end. Will probably need about twenty albums to put them all in if I don’t junk some of the more obscure or pointless ones.

I still have some boxes to sort through, but I’m on strike for the time being. Can’t be bothered… Or rather don’t want to spoil my good mood with some of the things in there… I was getting a bit emotional yesterday finding some of the things that have been thrown into the garage for me to have or just because Paul doesn’t want them any more, but I’m going to have to face the rest of it sooner or later. There’s still loads to fetch and I have no idea where it’s all going to go in my wee flat. I think a lot of it will end up going to charity shops just because I don’t have space. I need a bigger house!

On that note, I’ve actually been looking at house prices round here, just out of interest really. It looks like, if I get a decent enough job and a regular income, I may well be able to afford a fairly decent house, especially if I have a sizable enough deposit to put down. I was speaking to Paul last night on the phone about homes and suchlike and telling him that my wee flat still doesn’t feel enough like home. That’s probably because it’s not actually mine, just rented from someone else, so it would be nice to be able to have my own house. I’d probably need three bedrooms: one for me, one for guests and one as a sewing room, and there’s a few on the market at the moment that aren’t too expensive. We’ll see what I can afford once I’m thinking about it seriously though. I’d still like to live around here, purely because there’s the rag market in the city centre, and it’s fairly easy to get to from here. I know, I’m obsessed with my material and sewing, but maybe one day I will make my fortune at it! Yeah… Stop laughing…

First thing on the agenda though is to get my medical problems sorted. Until that happens, I can’t get a job, and if I don’t have a job, I can’t buy a house… You all still owe me a quid though, so if you’d actually manage to send the cash through, I might be able to afford a house on the proceeds… I’ll invite you all to the housewarming party as long as you bring your own booze. I’m Scottish. Live with the inbred stinginess.

Tomorrow I will be doing some very special laundry… I got my gowns back! I now have five very creased and slightly musty-smelling christening gowns awaiting my care and attention, so tomorrow will be silk wash in the machine, hang on hangars to dry, then out with the iron and into suit bags to keep them pristine. I’ve a couple of finishing touches to put on a couple and then I’ll be hoping to sell them. If anyone wants a christening gown, you know where to find me!

On another note, I’ve also offered to do up window displays for the florist downstairs. He has some mannequins that I can make stuff for, and then when the display gets changed, I can launder and sell the bits I’ve made. Plus I get free advertising by having my stuff in his window as well! With any luck, nice window displays will increase his trade too, so everyone wins. With Christmas season coming up (yeah, I know, we’re just in August, but the retail trade starts early) I may have to make some festive bits and pieces for him, and he occasionally does teddies for arrangements for new baby arrivals, so I may be able to make some toys and baby bits for him too. We shall see. I’m just trying to keep out of mischief here, and doing some sewing should be good therapy for me. Now I have a lot of my sewing things back, life should be a lot easier on that score anyway. It’s bliss having my material (well a lot of it anyway, as I know there are some bits still missing) back, and I’ve just organised it into colours (reds, blues, greens, golds, white oddments, white gown material and black dress fabric) so that might make life a little easier when looking for things. I have all my patterns too, so watch this space for progress reports…

Anyway, it’s getting late, I need a cuppa and a painkiller (I’ve just started a headache, probably from lack of sleep) and I think I’m going to lie down in bed and try to get my creative mind working on a dress design… I spotted some material while sorting through, and I’d really like to make a spectacular christening gown with it. All I have to do now is design it so it doesn’t turn out being too overdone… I’ll keep you posted.

I think I need a scanner… That way I could scan in designs for you lovely people to get bored with as well as my wittering on about nothing in particular. Now the Bear has worked out technology to a point where he can post pics for me on here… Well, let’s just say that you’ve been warned…

A short while later…

The Bear just turned up and didn’t even make me a cup of tea… I had to do it. Lazy sod… Anyway, I’ll get him to post this for me.

For the record guys, my husband will be my ex husband as soon as my solicitor can get everything done around all the other work he’s got going on. I doubt Paul will be the bloke I married ever again and that’s just something I’ll have to deal with and learn to live with. I’ll love the man I married as much as I ever did, but the Paul that’s there now just isn’t that man.

I love you guys too for the record, especially the crazy Canadian lady and her evil twin who is not in full control of his faculties. Larry, please keep that pair in line for the sake of everyone’s sanity! And Puss, don’t let the kids drive you too nuts. Bear sends his love too (except to Sims… I think it’s more a sort of manly handshake thing going on there… I hope…)

Sod it…

2008-08-05T19:09:00.002+01:00

I’ve had enough of vague and not getting understood. I’ll be blunt.

I’m still in love with my husband. He’s not my ex, because the divorce hasn’t gone through, and my solicitor is being a bit slow due to his caseload. I still love him as much as I did on the day I married him, and possibly even more than that, because we were together for quite a while in the grand scheme of things. People probably think I’m completely insane for loving Paul the way I do, but it’s not something I can magically switch off. I can’t suddenly stop having feelings for the man just because I had to leave him.

Note I said HAD to leave. I didn’t want to leave. I only left because I was afraid the past might repeat itself with regards the violence. If he’d promised not to do it again and kept that promise, I might still be living there. If he’d gone and got help for his problems before November, I might still have been there. He says he’s been to see someone about his temper, and I really hope he has, but that doesn’t make things easier for me. It means that the Paul I’m in love with is still there minus the bit I had to leave for.

It’s sad to think that Paul is probably the only person I have really ever fallen completely and utterly in love with. I still love my first husband to bits, but it’s a different kind of love. He will always be one of my best friends even if we don’t speak that often. Paul is different: loving Paul hurts even now. I was jealous at Beltring because he was all over a girl and they were practically eating each other’s faces off less than 12 feet in front of me, knowing I was there and couldn’t help but see them. That stabbed like a knife. I was jealous when he said he was off to help another one of his female friends, driving down to her house to pick her up, take her back home with him, spend some time chilling, watching DVDs, chatting, sorting some of her problems and then the next day taking her to London to hand her over to her boyfriend. He did all that because she has problems: she’s anorexic, bulimic, depressive and agoraphobic. A very noble thing for him to have done, but it makes me very hurt to think he can do all these things for other people, but doesn’t care about helping me. I just told him in a text message that if the situation was reversed and he needed me, I’d be there for him. I’d want to help him, give him the answers he needs, and generally get him through it in the most painless way possible.

Perhaps I am asking too much. Perhaps he doesn’t care. Perhaps he hasn’t cared for a long time, since I stopped being the thin dolly-bird for him to show off. Someone described me as Paul’s “Trophy wife” and perhaps that’s got an element of truth in it. It does feel like he didn’t want me when I put on weight, some of which was down to my thyroid condition and the following bout of vertigo. I started losing the weight though, going to a slimming club to try to get back to the size I was when I met Paul back on the 2nd July 2000. Strange that I can remember the date so clearly. I also know that our seventh wedding anniversary falls in less than two weeks, and I will probably be sat here miserable, thinking back on the good times, and missing him so much it hurts. I do that a lot anyway, but knowing it is the anniversary of the day I married the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, to grow old and die with, makes it so much harder to bear.

Foolishly, given the chance, I’d probably go back to him or at least have a very hard time deciding whether to or not. If I did I’d lose friends and my family wouldn’t be happy about it. I’d lose the Bear, who has been so caring and considerate and who has helped me get this far so I have a roof over my head, a little money to keep body and soul together in the way of benefits, and he tries to stop me doing silly things to myself. At the moment he has taken all the medicines out of the house with the exception of the ones I need to take today because the other night I just wanted to escape reality for a while and took more of my sleeping tablets than I should. I wasn’t trying to kill myself, just trying to have a break from the hurt and the nightmares that even come while I’m awake. I wasn’t after attention or pity: I just wanted a break from feeling like my whole life is in ruins and the only person who could help sort out some of the pieces doesn’t want to know.

I self harm as a way of diverting my mind from the pain inside to the pain I’m inflicting, but last time it didn’t work. I cut myself with scissors: that didn’t hurt, so I tried a kitchen knife. That didn’t hurt either, so I tried a serrated steak knife, and even that didn’t hurt. That’s when I took the sleeping tablets. If I couldn’t divert the pain, then I could at least try to escape from it. I do see a counsellor, but to be honest, it’s not helping as far as I can tell. I’ve been seeing him every month since March, and as far as I can see, things have just got worse, although I can probably put some of that down to having seen Paul at Beltring, and to the things he did while there. He said he didn’t do it on purpose, that he wasn’t French-kissing the girl in front of me for any malicious reason. He said “it just happened”. Part of me wants to believe it, not to have to think that the man I love so much would do something to hurt me so badly, but the other part of me thinks he did it to show me what I was missing, to make me jealous, to make me upset and to hurt me badly enough that I couldn’t enjoy the party. I left early for the record, because the pain inside was too bad to bear.

We spoke by text yesterday. I’m not going to go into the details of that. Suffice to say I probably said more than I should about my feelings for him, which is probably why I’m no longer bothered about hiding them on here. He did say that I was being out of character though, and to be honest, I am different to the way I was towards the end of the time I was living with him. People have commented on the difference in me. A very good friend was even nice enough to tell me about one of the problems I have with my personality, and that means I can now do something about it. He was very reticent about telling me, but I’m really glad he did, because it now means I can hopefully solve it and it won’t be a problem any more. Paul did tell me about it, but didn’t go into detail, so I couldn’t quite grasp what the problem was. Part of me wishes we could have sorted out the problems before I felt I had to leave. I know I had things he disliked about me, and me him, but if we’d communicated, perhaps neither of us would have had to go through all this mess.

It is a mess, isn’t it? The Bear and I had a bit of a heated discussion last night (not an argument, I was just a bit upset and he played Devil’s advocate as well as sitting on Paul’s side of things to get me to see things from other points of view) and I know he didn’t agree with some of the things I said to Paul on the texts, but understood why I had sent them. He made the point that maybe I was hurting Paul with some of the things I was saying, perhaps dragging up things for him that he would prefer to be left, and perhaps I did. I don’t know really, but I know I don’t want to hurt him, just have him understand what’s in my head. I sent a text this morning apologising if I’d upset him, but I’ve had no reply to that text or the last two sent yesterday, and doubt one will be forthcoming.

I suppose at some point I will have to face the fact that Paul is either honestly not interested or he’s pulling away from me because he’s facing the same nightmares as I am. Bear was absolutely livid at Paul though, because I phoned Paul after taking the sleeping tablets and he said he was busy and could I phone him at half eight. Apparently I was slurring my words and very slow because the tablets were taking effect: Bear was sat across from me when I made the call and heard me. I only have vague recollections of the next bit because I was fairly out of it. By half seven I had basically passed out, so didn’t make the phone call, and Paul was angry that I hadn’t phoned when I said I would. Bear couldn’t understand why Paul hadn’t noticed something was up when I spoke to him in the first place, although I did say he was driving at the time, so probably not concentrating that much although according to Bear it should have been fairly apparent to anyone, even if they were busy, that something was definitely wrong with me, and Bear also asked why Paul didn’t phone me when I didn’t call at the appointed time, as he was waiting to eat. My answer to that is probably because he doesn’t want there to be any record of him contacting me by phone, or he can’t be bothered paying for a phone call to me.

The bit of my mind that hates me wonders if it makes him feel good having me chasing after him and telling him that I still love him. When I told the Bear that I’d been sending texts and said roughly what had been said, he threw his hands up and looked exasperated, because to his mind, I have handed Paul ammunition to use against me, things that he can use to hurt me and stuff he can read to his friends and laugh over because it will be seen as pathetic. He will get slaps on the back from his manly mates at having someone so pathetically infatuated with him, and it will all be a grand joke. Oh well, if he does, he does. If that’s what makes him happy, then so be it.

Bear has also told me off on several occasions for making excuses for why Paul did what he did, and for his actions even now. I do make excuses for him, like him being tired, working long hours, being too busy to reply, being too busy driving to notice anything amiss the other night and a myriad of other little excuses I make for him every day. I should stop really, as sometimes there is no excuse.

Recently I had a friend on the phone very distraught after something had happened in his personal life. He was told in no uncertain terms to come to my house for a bit of tea and sympathy and to see if there was anything I could do to help him. This was while I was clinging onto my own sanity by a thread, but that didn’t matter: my friend needed someone to help, and I helped. My parents were here at the time, and I had already put the contingency plan into action for sleeping arrangements, but my parents decided to head down to my sister’s overnight rather than during the day because the weather was so hot, so that helped with the bed spaces. My friend stayed over and we had a lovely couple of walks along the canal as well as a nice lunch out (I paid my share: I insisted despite him being a pain in the butt about wanting to pay for everything) and by the time he went home, his head wasn’t quite so messed up. He’d had a couple of days to think and someone to bounce thoughts off (with a bit of help from the Bear too, although the pair of them ended up licking land rovers and my mate now wants a land rover with armour. Don’t ask… It’s a bloke thing…) and went home feeling happier and with a plan.

I was tired: I was busy with having parents here: I was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. None of these stopped me wanting to help my friend because he was so upset and needed to talk. None of these things would stop me speaking to Paul if he needed to either. The only thing that stopped me phoning when I was supposed to was about 90mg of Temazepam. For the record, it’s only because I’ve been prescribed them for far longer than you’re supposed to be that saved me from being dragged into hospital. My body is sort of used to processing them now, so there were slightly less nasty effects than there would have been otherwise. The Bear had to stay here all night watching me according to the NHS Direct nurse, and was told if there was ANYTHING that seemed wrong, he had to phone an ambulance.

Anyway, I’m still here, getting thinner (lost about 8lbs in a couple of weeks… Not great, but nothing to get too worked up about) and I’m back in touch with someone I’m very pleased to be speaking to. She’s an absolutely brilliant person (although she’ll probably kill me when she gets the letter I’m writing her… The paper will probably send her blind!) and I’ve missed talking to her. I best stop waffling on now as the Bear has to go, and I have asked him to post this for me. I’ve also asked him to post a pic of me with my cousin’s baby in her Christening gown, but heaven only knows if he’ll be able to work out how to do it… We shall see. If so, I hope you like the pic. If he ends up putting something on here that he shouldn’t, PLEASE phone me so I can slap his paw for being rude!

Normal service will be resumed as soon as the Bear stops being rude and works out how to use technology…

31 July 08

2008-08-01T03:03:00.001+01:00

Well, you all owe me a quid. My psychiatrist thought the nervous breakdown was a bad idea. I can be rich and miserable… Mail donations to the usual address and any suggestions should be written on the back of a used five pound note (or ten dollars, depending on your country of choice).

I had a text or three from my crazy Canadian lady yesterday, which made me feel a little better after a really pretty shitty day (and by the way, I love you too, you crazy Canuk). I have come to the conclusion that I need the internet just so I can talk to the friends that don’t have my address or phone number (and those who do have them but don’t use them… or those that do use them and then have their letters delayed or lost by the absolutely abysmal postal service working across the pond in either direction). I may head into town soon and see what the various offers are on for cheap internet thingies to plug into my computer and plug me back into the world. I may just have to go into the library more often to keep up with my mail at least (35 at last count and I only checked them on Monday) and try to keep up with the blogging without having to do it through a third party (Bear will probably be the poor sucker who has to post this for me).

I’m trying so hard to keep cheerful because I know what will happen if I don’t. I don’t think people are really interested in the shite in my head, and I’m not into people thinking I’m looking for sympathy because of my illness. I’m just planning to ramble on for a bit just in case some poor sap really feels the need to read this stuff…

My mother tried to tell me I’m not ill. Bless her, she’s trying to understand, but those who haven’t been there don’t really know what really goes on with mental illness. It’s a very strange thing, and sadly, the easy cures don’t work. The simple things that my mum thinks will solve everything won’t work because of the way the mind works, or doesn’t when you have mental problems.

It used to be a real stigma to have a mental illness, and so many things were classed as mental illnesses too, including things like promiscuity or getting pregnant before marriage and many other things that are now socially acceptable. Mental illness is now socially acceptable, and depression is now possibly the biggest excuse for days missed from work than anything else with the exception of stress. The thing is, half of these people are possibly just swinging the lead, being a wee bit miserable and the easy diagnosis is depression. They’re treated with a variety of different medications, most of which have no chance of working, because there’s nothing actually wrong with the patient in the fist place. The doctor would probably be as well giving them a sugar cube and a pat on the head, because that’s going to have about the same effect as the tablets. They’re mostly a placebo effect, albeit an expensive one for the local Primary Care Trust to dish out as an NHS medication.

I know I have a real problem. It’s maybe not as severe as some cases (although I have considered handing myself in to the local hospital recently because I couldn’t trust myself not to do something REALLY stupid, but fortunately I was saved that by the parents putting in an appearance and staving off the stupidity), but it still makes life very difficult for me. For some people, depression is just not being able to get up and not seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, glass half full and all that jazz, and for others depression takes a more sinister twist and they end up under trains, in rivers or going to sleep and not waking up again courtesy of large quantities of pharmaceuticals washed down with a good helping of the alcohol of their choice. For the record, co-codamol is NOT a good choice of medication, as lots of it makes you itch. It’s a tested theory, so trust me on this one (not a recent test. This one was a few months ago when things maybe weren’t quite so naff, but still naff enough for me to do something that could nearly have saved you all reading this crap…)

After speaking to a few people about such things, the general consensus is also that while self harm makes you feel better in the short term, there are still scars around many years later (unless of course you are one of the ones being scraped off trains or fished out of rivers) so it’s generally held to be a bad move. The problem is that while the rational mind can process this information, agree and nod sagely, the irrational mind is sat there thinking “What a load of crap. I want to do it and sod the rational side. That side is no fun anyway, and I’d never go partying with it. Rational is for LOSERS!” The irrational brain sees the rational side as a nerd to be mocked and contradicted at every turn while the rational side of the head tries to make itself heard. Think of it as bungee jumping: while the rational side is thinking, “This bit of elastic doesn’t really look that strong. Is this really a good idea?” the irrational side is thinking “WHEEEEEEEEEE!” as it has already thrown itself (including the poor sod that it’s inhabiting) off the ledge, bridge or platform. It is loud, obnoxious and drowns out the rational until it shuts up and slinks back to it’s room in a sulk, refusing to come out again till the irrational side has done the equivalent of a sixteen-pints-and-pass-out-at-the-party move, when it’s safe to re-emerge. By that point I’m usually looking for the box of elastoplast (or band-aids for you weirdos across the pond).

I have a new one, just in case anyone was interested. Rational slipped out for a cigarette earlier and left irrational in charge… It’s a bit like asking someone called Torquemada to work in an old people’s home…

It’s odd, being able to make fun of myself and my illness, making light of what could be (and sometimes is) a very serious condition of mine. It’s life threatening sometimes, and definitely not good for my health given that I don’t sleep well, don’t eat properly, and certainly don’t look after myself with any degree of care. I have weird nightmares that wake me at all hours of the night when I don’t take my sleeping tablets, but given that they are highly addictive things, I try not to take them too often. I have to put up with the sleeplessness just so I don’t get hooked on the bloody things, and I have to take all my other meds every day otherwise I go back to square one of them, and let me tell you, that ain’t pretty. The warning on my anti-depressants says that for the fist month, the tablets can INCREASE all the symptoms of depression, including the suicide/self-harm thing. Great medicine, isn’t it? Anyway, I persisted with it, and the doc just doubled my dose, as with the recent events it seems the bloody things aren’t working any more, or are doing so at a lesser efficiency, or have gone back to increasing, rather than decreasing the symptoms. I thought about having an eating disorder just to have the full set, but I can’t be arsed with the whole fingers-down-throat crap. Mind you, recently (for that read “from last Friday till yesterday”) my body decided it didn’t like food anyway and anything put in came out again fairly swiftly, so my food intake for five days was two small slices of chicken and a digestive biscuit. I did manage to keep drinking, so I kept the fluid levels up anyway.

Just for a laugh as well, because of the meds I have to take, I have to take another med to stop my stomach having too much acid in it, because gastric reflux all day, every day, is not fun. I ran out of that a bit ago though, so I couldn’t experiment to see if it would stop me throwing up anything put in my stomach.. I have another one to top up my thyroxin levels too, but I’ll have to take that every day for the rest of my life anyway. I can live with that one though, because it means I don’t get the symptoms of an underactive thyroid (although they’re sending me for more blood tests to check the meds are keeping up, as they’re not sure they are at the mo). I try to be good at taking my meds as well, because if you don’t take them, they don’t work properly. I want to get better. I really don’t want to get stuck like this for the rest of my life. Mind you, if the rational side keeps slipping out for breaks, that might not be too long…

Well, I just deleted a whole paragraph because I started waffling on about things that are best left alone for the time being. Bah humbug… I’d love to witter on about things and get them off my chest, however a) they’re pretty private things, b) they might bother someone reading this because of them being personal and c) they’re probably not all that interesting to those on the outside of the situation anyway. Oh, not forgetting d) (which I have already had from one friend tonight) which is that if I publicly say my thoughts, more people might threaten to come and give me a slap or shout at me, so I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to everyone else… I shall go back to the analysis of mental illness and in particular, depression.

Before I start, I would like to add that one of my neighbours is a complete waste of fresh air. I have been accused of phoning the police on him for whatever (which I categorically can state that I didn’t) and have had a load of abuse about my personal circumstances thrown at me. The last time he did that (last Friday) my rational side decided to have a break, leaving my irrational side in charge. Elastoplast time again… I should get shares in the company… Fortunately tonight my rational side is in full command of the situation and I told him in no uncertain terms that it was not me who called the police, although he didn’t believe a word of it. I don’t really care if he does or not to be honest, as I know that I didn’t, and the other people around here know I didn’t (including the guy who actually did phone them). I’m certainly not happy with the situation, as I came here to get some peace and quiet to perhaps get my head back together again, and instead I get some idiot trying to make things worse.

So… back to the plot (or lack of plot, as it feels like on occasion)…

My shrink has decided that I need to make a decision concerning something I feel I need to do, or not, as the case may be. My problem is that doing that thing could have four possible outcomes, only one of which would be a “good” one in the grand scheme of things (depending on your point of view). Not doing said thing will just leave me in the same place as I am now, but with a regret that I didn’t do the thing that I’m dithering about. The three outcomes of the doing things that aren’t so “good” would still settle some things and perhaps get my head back on track just a bit sooner, but I’m having problems working out whether I can cope with it. Sorry if all that’s a bit vague, but I can’t speak about it, because I have to make my own mind up about what I want to do… It would be nice to get opinions, but it has to be my own decision.

Well, it’s now getting a bit late here and the Bear has turned up with his flash drive, so I am going to slouch off back to reality and ask the nice man to post this for me… I so need the internet…

Stuff...

2008-07-28T14:05:00.003+01:00

Well, two weeks at Beltring happened. I sort of had fun some of the time, but other times weren't so great. I'm not going to elaborate or go over stuff that can't be changed, so don't ask. Suffice to say my shrink is going to have kittens when I see him on Wednesday. I was considering having a nervous breakdown tomorrow (my parents are overnighting tonight, so I can't do it till they've gone) but I might wait till I can see the shrink and ask his opinion on it. I bet you a pound he reckons it's a bad idea...

Anyway, I'm at the library doing the net thing as I still don't have internet, television or even a landline in my house. I just wanted to post on here so friends didn't think I'd dropped off the planet. I'm still here, but not so great.

So far...

2008-05-24T01:05:00.002+01:00

Well, I finished the gown for my Cousin's baby and she is picking it up from my mum and dad tomorrow. I've also managed to make a couple of others from various bits of material I have kicking around (did I mention that the rag market is DIRT CHEAP!?!?!) and I've been knitting on and off.

Other than that, things are fairly quiet. I have three hamsters now, with Midge, the runt of the litter of babies now living with his dad. There were eight babies in the end, four of each, with two plain golden girls, and two grey girls, three gold and white boys and Midge, the creamy grey and white boy. The babies were sold to a local pet shop, and the money from that basicall pays for the upkeep of the parents. Self-sustaining pets are the best. I have also retained one of the moggies as a companion through the day, what with the hampers being all nocturnal. Mouse is now my little shadow, and loves spending time with his mummy... He sleeps on the bed with me every night, loafs on the sofa with me while I read, takes up most of the sofa when I'm sewing and people-watches out the window from his vantage point on the back of the sofa.

I also have a bit of a garden out on the balcony... Well a couple of pots with things in... I have a pot with a bit of a field in it because it had a pretty flower in it and my mate is threatening to plough the field it was in. I also "rescued" a rose (wild variety) from aditch at the side of a road somewhere, along with a couple of ferns. I've been "talking a leaf" out of my mother's book... literally. Oh, I also have a tiny oak tree that's very pretty and was in a clump of brambles that we were digging through.

The reason we were digging through the undergrowth (Bear and I) was because we were doing a bit of Military Archaeology... Well, we were doing some field research on a couple of WWII sites around our area, trying to pinpoint locations of gun emplacements and suchlike on an anti-aircraft site. There were many cries of "I think it's over here" with the reply of "No it's not, you shithead, it's HERE" followed by giggles and an outbreak of childish shite till we agreed that it wasn't in either place... We've managed to map out where buildings and guns were so far, and we are hoping to be able to dig a few little bits to test our theories. It's really nice to get out and into the fresh air, having something to use the old brain to work out sites, locations and what's there, as well as having a very easy-going banter and chat while theorising about placements and suchlike. I just have to avoid the sunburn!

In other news, I've managed to find a really nice local shop who will take in my christening gowns as and when I make them and sell them for me, which will be a nice wee help with the finances, although I'm not going to turn into a millionaire overnight! I'm probably not going to sell a huge number through the shop anyway, and any money made will be put back into making more gowns and paying a couple of bills off. Nothing huge, and I checked with the Employment Agency about doing it, and as far as they're concerned, as long as I'm not earning a regular wage or raking in huge profits, they're not bothered. Their threshold is about 80 quid a week income before it affects benefit, and to be honest, if I make that I'll be very, very lucky. At least it keeps me out of mischief, and I spend a good deal of time actually designing something different in the christening gowns, so that none of them will come out the same as any others. The way I buy material, there's never going to be two the same anyway... I love designing them almost more than I like making them. I don't know whether I like selling them, simply because I've only ever given them away so far!

Ah well, it's late and I really need to try and get some sleep. I've not had a full night's sleep for more than a month or two and it's beginning to take it's toll. I still nightmare a bit, but mostly it's just my body thinking it ought to be awake after about three hours sleep, then it decides it has to wake up hourly thereafter. Every so often I just don't bother getting out of bed except for food and the essential visits to the loo and try to catch up on the naps in between. I think I managed about 4 hours one afternoon - the longest sleep I've had in ages. Even the sleeping tablets aren't working too well, but I need to see the doc anyway, so I'll have a word with her about them then.

Time for bed said Zebedee!! BOING!

Whatever next…

2008-03-17T18:10:00.002Z

Well, so much for himself being all “oooh, how great the cats are and how much they love being here without her”. The cats are currently… Well, one is on my bed, one just sloped off to get some food and the other is currently happily asleep on the sofa. Yep, I got the cats. I tried to get some sort of sense out of himself about picking up my stuff, since he seemed so urgently in need of getting rid of it. I pulled strings, I made enquiries about couriers and “Man-With-Van” hire and generally tried to work on a very tight time frame and budget to try and give him what he wanted: my stuff out the house.

HA!

What a flippin’ joke that turned out to be. His latest estimate is six weeks, or in laymans terms, “I can’t be bothered to pack your stuff because while I thought it would be a problem for you, I wanted it gone, but now I know you can organise to get it, I’ve lost interest in clearing it out”. His “real” excuse is that he’s working too much, and has moaned about having to take days off just to pack my stuff. I know what his shifts and work are like, and frankly, I seriously doubt he would be working so hard if he wasn’t volunteering for overtime, which is his norm. It was the same with the cats: he knew I wanted them, so he wanted to keep them. Now they are an inconvenience, he threatened me with “get the cats within 28 days or they will be DISPOSED of”. That is a direct quote. The cats are 8, 6 and 5. I know when they were born. I can tell you their dates of birth. I think they are a little young to be put to sleep, don’t you? How flippin’ callous is that anyway? It wasn't like he was jumping up and down saying they would be REHOMED. His exact words were "DISPOSED OF" which to any normal person means off to the vets and a quick injection, then it's night night forever... I'm normal, however I'm starting to wonder about him...

So now they’re here. My flat isn’t really big enough for them in the long term, but I have a contingency plan coming into action. I will care for them, look after them, fuss them, spend time with them, get them to a vet to get the big welts scratched in their necks (that himself said they weren’t doing anymore since I wasn’t there… Liar...) sorted out and then they will be going to lodge with a friend of mine who has plenty of space, a big house and a need for a psychopathic vermin-hunter as they have a rat problem. I’m sure Miss will be very happy beheading rats. I expect my mate will come down one morning to find a miniature rodent Somme in her kitchen or outside the back door…. Oooh, fun. At least I won’t have to clear up the corpses.

Fatso is the brains of the operation: he directs the girls as they stalk and hunt, overseeing the operation from a suitable vantage point, and probably holding de-briefs after each hunt, telling them where they went wrong, and what they did right… Fatso is the archetypal male: get the girlies to do the work, keep your paws clean and just run the show from a distance. I’m beginning to think he might be a reincarnated Mob Boss… There’ll be horses heads in the rats nests coming up…

Anyway… In other news, I have managed to source some of the bits needed to get back to sewing things. My cousin’s wee girl will be christened in a couple of months, and I have the excellent task of making the gown for her. Some friends helped out with a wee bit of finance (Oh God, the rag market is BRILLIANT, and so CHEAP!!!) and I now have everything I need to make the gown, with material left over to make a second one, to sell and pay off what I was loaned to get the material for B’s gown. I might even be able to get back to sewing a bit more full-time too, as I have spoken to a local charity shop and volunteered to work there, as well as telling them I am a seamstress and happy to mend anything for them so it can get sold in the shop rather than getting chucked in the rag bin for want of a zip.

The gown is all cut, including pattern alterations for the overdress: My mother has finally dispelled the belief I had that things weren’t good enough, and has informed me that I am a better seamstress than even her, as I can make up patterns out of my head. It’s made me feel really brilliant to hear things like that, bolstered my confidence no end, and I have even added curved seams to the gown pattern, just because mum said “Don’t do it: they’re a pig to do!” Ach, they’re not so bad on the small scale… hehehe

For those interested in such things, the pattern is Simplicity 4766 and I plan to make it in a very light Dupion silk, with a voile underskirt and soft cotton lining, with a beautiful lace that I came across in Wales ages ago, and happened to be in my knitting box which was one of the few things I brought with me when I left. Anyway, the lace will go on the sleeve cuffs and the underskirt hem. The overdress is being made out of a wedding dress I had: cream/ivory satin with a big pearl border at the hem. The border is going to be re-stitched to the hem of the gown once I’ve cut all the pattern pieces out of the main body of the dress and will be princess line, ie no waistline, just a long flow of material from shoulder to hem, with curved seams and a pleated insert in the centre back to give a little fullness to the skirt as well as adding interest to the gown. It took me about two hours to take the original pattern, trace it, cut it, think about the seams and pleats, cut up the pattern pieces to the new pattern then make a “Toille” or mock-up in some gash cotton I had kicking about. I was well chuffed with the result and the mock-up will be sent to my cousin for sizing in the next couple of days. I’ll get some pics of the finished article to post once it’s all done…

Other than that I have been keeping busy: I had a friend over for a visit and we bitched about our respective ex-others, had a lovely meal out, and watched movies on the laptop. Sadly that visit came to a premature end with the revelation about the cats, but I’m sure there will be more sessions to come. I had to suddenly arrange to get them picked up and didn’t know if I would have to go or not, so my mate departed to let me get things sorted.

I’ve also been keeping up with my housework, and the house is still lovely and tidy, although my bedroom windowsill could do with some work, as it’s a bit of a jumble of scarves and a couple of hats that I need to find homes for as well as all my hair stuff, perfumes, moisturisers, jewellery boxes and so on. You can tell I’ve been to my sister’s with the additional jars and bottles of stuff… She makes toiletries for fun, and I get to sample the results. Her Zen moisturiser is wonderful stuff: very calming and soothing. I’ve also been knitting, which is soothing too: A scarf for my mate is currently being produced, because she dropped over while I was knitting scarves for my mum and dad out of a soft, fluffy wool I found for cheap in one of the local shops and demanded one for herself otherwise she was going to kidnap my mum’s… Mum loves her scarf anyway, and thinks it’s great, because it’s soft, fluffy, and she was sat patting it while I was on the phone to her because it was too warm to wear it.

By the way… all three cats have now joined me in the bedroom, loafing about and getting in their cat-naps so they have enough energy for their main sleep later… They seem pretty happy and settled already, and Fatso already discovered that squishy Bears are good to sleep on, or just sit, purr and get fussed on. They were doing some “male bonding” earlier: both asleep on the sofa while I made cups of tea and hung out the washing. The three of them don’t even seem to mind the Hampers, although Bert keeps trying to investigate the new arrivals by getting up close and personal in his ball. I think Miss is already learning to get on the bed or sofa while he’s out, because he’s run over her tail a couple of times already. Bert and Tinky seem fine with the lodgers and have continued their normal routines as if nothing unusual was happening.

Oooh, Tinky is getting fat by the way: we have another week till she’s due her babies, but you can tell she’s pregnant now. She’s got her lovely, tidy cage, all her food in her bowl, bedding all snuggled into a corner… Bert has a typical bachelor pad… His bedding is all over the place (two corners at least and across the middle of the floor) and I filled his food bowl last night and put it in his cage… First thing he did was get in the bowl and throw half the contents out onto the floor around the bowl… They get stick treats of wooden sticks with nuts and seeds stuck to them: Tinky nibbles hers when she wants any. Bert just stripped all the food off in a couple of days and most of it is still on the floor of his cage… I was going to clean him out, but I think I’ll just do the necessary corner that is his designated toilet space and leave the rest because otherwise I’ll just be chucking out the food he has all over the place. Men… who’d have ‘em…

Well, not much else to report really. I did have some philosophical thoughts to share, but I’ll save them for when I’m writing at a silly hour of the morning. I seem to function better, philosophically speaking, at two in the morning. I started another train of thought the other night, but it got derailed by my mate phoning for a late-night girlie chat.

I’ll keep you posted on the rest of the things doing. I’ve got to say I was almost laughing when I spoke to him the other day, because frankly it was absurd. If it wasn’t for him threatening to have the cats put to sleep, I think I would probably have been giggling too much to talk. He didn’t want me calling him, despite him sending cryptic texts, threatened to have his numbers changed and hung up on me as I was trying to get some sense out of him about stuff and solicitors letters. I phoned him straight back. He said he was going to change his numbers and hung up on me again, so I phoned him straight back…Do you have any idea how much hassle it would be for him to change his mobile number, let alone the home phone? He can carry on if he chooses, because frankly it will cause him more of a headache than it will for me. That’s what made me laugh… I don’t really care if I have his number or not, because my solicitor can deal with him if I really need anything from him now. If he wants to keep my stuff indefinitely, I’ll just go through the list he was sent, work out how much it’s all worth, then add it to the final settlement figure. It’s no skin off my nose to be honest: it would be nice to have my things back, but at the end of the day, it’s just stuff, right? All replaceable, especially once I get the money for all my things he’s keeping hold of. The real valuable things are here with me already, including the last real button he could press, that being the cats. They’re safe, happy and that’s what counts. Stuff is stuff, but animals are more precious than any things that can be replaced. Material can be bought: the love of my cats and their unique personalities can’t.

Ho hum… time to go do the washing up I suppose…

P.s. I know he’s bitched that I’ve woken him up with phone calls, but frankly, even if he’s doing 12 hour nights, he should be awake at 4 in the afternoon, don’t you think? It’s not like he ever answered until the other day anyway… I phoned a couple of times late afternoon and a couple of times in the evening as well as sending at least one text asking him to call me, like my solicitor said I would (“will contact you in two to three weeks to discuss… blah blah”) and only got a reply from him when he text me and I called him straight back, simply because his solicitor hadn’t had a reply from mine… You know, in a civilised world, he would be able to talk to me like a human being, but then again, I don’t think anyone classes as being important enough for His Lordship to notice or care about. Oh well, he’ll fall flat on his face one day, and to be honest, it would probably improve his looks…

... And now it is later... I just read his blog, and I'm about ready to giggle myself into a little heap at the complete gall of the man. He has the front to be all "poor me" about having to get rid of the cats, then bitches about the smell and cat hair... Oh, and THEY were what was stopping him packing my things! Naughty cats! I shall have stern words with them later for being bad cats and looking for attention from someone who is so self-centred, he would give a gyroscope a run for its money...

Oooh, big wow... He changed the locks... You know, if he would get his facts sorted he would know that I DO still have the right to access the property (my solicitor says so, and so does the Womans Aid counsellor, and my parents, and everyone else I've asked...). Not that I plan to however, I just offered to help pack my things, since he seemed to be having trouble (Nice of me? I thought so...). It's not like I am so crass as to remove anything that's not mine. For a start, that's theft, and I am no thief, although he's trying to say I am, because I had the gall to take a PAIR OF SUNGLASSES (oooh, get me, the big criminal that should be locked up! Come and arrest me now!... *yawn*). Those would be the sunglasses he bought for a hundred and twenty quid because he'd "lost" the ones he paid ninety quid for... The ones I found by moving one bit of paper on the kitchen table, and he'd apparently searched the house... Riiiight... Anyway, he gave me the hundred and twenty quid pair, probably because he felt like a complete idiot (heh... now there's a shocker... the idiot had a moment of self-realisation...) and so the shades were mine... Until it suited him to whine about it anyway...

Well, perhaps I will be able to get my things back after all. It's either that or he has to pay for my stuff. I worked out already that the five christening gowns that he would have to compensate me for would cost him in the region of a thousand pounds (materials, trimings, thread and labour costs, and even then he's getting a bargain...) and then he would have to pay my mate for the material she bought for a dress I was supposed to make for her (another sixty quid for materials, pattern and threads, as well as compensation for the fact that she had to go and buy a dress for the occasion, because I didn't have the stuff to make her dress...) not to mention all the rest of my materials and patterns, threads, trimmings, sewing machine attachments et all. That's just the sewing room too...

He also bitched about the list I sent of my things, because, in his words "It's funny how so many things suddenly have been bought by (my) parents". I spoke to dad about the list and he was agreeable that the things I said they had bought were things he had purchased personally or supplied money to me for. The fact that my dad was kind enough to send me money on a fairly regular basis when he was working which paid for a few things in the house, some of which did not appear on my list (money for redoing the garden, buying the plants and everything as well as some other bits and pieces...) and is now happy enough to sign a letter to say these things were gifts from my parents to me, or gifts on the sad loss of granparents and friends to me personally... Well, dad is an ex Justice of the Peace, and not given to lying on legal documents, and I was brought up the same, so I think my list is perfectly valid...

Heh.. I had to laugh about his comments on my current location too, and the fact that I had a friend pick up the cats. That friend was Bear, who was the only person available at such short notice who had the time and money to go and fetch the moggies. Yadda, yadda, I'm in the Midlands. Big wow. That's been a real secret since he was told about it recently (see previous blog entry somewhere), and frankly, an area the size of a city is fine by me, or even the size of the Midlands, and to be honest, I'm sat here in Kidderminster (oooh, get me, narrowing down the search area...) shrugging about the whole thing. He's not prepared to be happy sharing a country with me, so I wonder how he will feel when it comes to sharing a field in Kent, which he is going to have to do. I will have the good grace to ignore him unless I have to speak to him, so I wonder what he's going to do in that instance, since apparently even Australia would be too close. I shall be enjoying the show, and if I'm being perfectly honest, the only difference between this year and any other will be one less face at the dining table and less packing for me to do beforehand, as I will not have to do all the thinking, packing and organising for another person who treated me like I wasn't there anyway, except to moan if I hadn't packed something of his...

Perhaps some day in some parallel universe, he will work out that he could just have sorted my stuff or allowed me to do it, no questions asked, and all this would have been over sooner rather than later, and he wouldn't be practically crying on the end of the phone because I phoned him to ask for clarification over what the solicitors were currently arguing over. OK, so I was the one that ended up in tears because of the thought of my cats being put down, but now he no longer has that bargaining chip... He says he will be divorcing me for unreasonable behaviour and is now claiming that I was the violent party because apparently I smashed a drawer over his head... That would be the already broken drawer that got thrown at his feet in a fit of temper because he did his usual, wound me up (again), refused to listen to me in any way, shape or form (again) and was following me around the house (again) and basically leaving me feeling very threatened (again)...

By the way Mr B, it went in the BIN, because it was RUBBISH. That's where RUBBISH goes, not all over the computer room floor, like the four big refuse sacks of pizza detritus that was cleared out before I left...

Another thing... Before I left there were comprehensive photographs taken of the property. Everything got photographed to show what had been left and how it was left. I couldn't go through all the mail that littered most of the dining room and the hall to remove anything of mine, and couldn't sort though books, DVDs, music and so on to sort out mine from his, however happily I had someone there in a more calm frame of mind that decided to take pictures of everything, including the fact that the house was still a mess, but that only some of my things had been taken. Ah well, we shall see what I get back and what I have to bill him for...

Anyway, I'm probably rambling yet again, but hey, I don't always get time to sit in front of a computer (unlike some people I could mention), and I have to fill in a few blanks here and there... Time for a cuppa I think...

By the way... I'm STILL waiting for mail, you sorry ingrates! hehehe

Difficult Much?

2008-03-15T11:47:00.003Z

Another day, another message left on voicemail for the "dearly beloved" ex-husband. I'm getting a bit annoyed that there's been no response whatsoever other than YET ANOTHER blog on his livejournal site. feel free to have a read.

Anyway, I know he reads this, so here's a message for you Mr B:

Phone me to discuss collection of my property. Do so promptly, or I will be forced to return to my solicitor and explain the number of times I have attempted to contact you as per his letter. I will then discuss the action I am permitted to take if you are not willing to comply with my solicitor's request for me to contact you to discuss collection of my property and dates which you will be amenable for the same to happen. I am quite willing and able to pack my own property, if that is what is causing the delay in response, and am perfectly willing to do so without further contact with yourself. I will be contacting my solicitor on Monday morning, so you have a further 36 hours in which to contact me.

To everyone else: As you can see, life is just the same as ever: I am still being ignored, despite not even living with him. It's funny how I clung to the love I felt for the man I married, despite him turning a bit Mr Hyde on me over the years. I thought about it the other night and will hopefully have a new blog to be posted soon, once I have marshalled all my thoughts on the matter. Needless to say, the love I had for the man I married has been rationalised. Himself is no longer that man, so there is no need for me to go on loving him, as there has been no need for the last few years. I did it then, but no longer.

I am not "over him" in any callous way, as he was happy to tell me. I am quite aware now that he was over me a long time ago, but a fear of failure that plagues his life meant he could NOT leave me. I would have to be the one that did the leaving.

I am now firmly of the belief that he offered me the chance of going to other men as a way of getting rid of me, believing perhaps that I would find another man to move on with. As it happens, all I found was a companion who would be my friend and confidante to the point where I felt comfortable enough to talk about the violence in my relationship for the first time, and then to have a self-realisation that there was no way that I could continue in such a self-destructive relationship where I was treated like a second-class citizen. I left for that reason, and that alone. A reason he seems to still be denying to himself, and neither confirming nor denying to others when questioned over his appalling behavciour while married to me, and, as seen above, continuing after I left.

I have more confidence, more self-respect and am becoming the person I was before I married a man who trod me into the ground, walked over me, made me doubt myself and who turned me into a mere shadow of the person I was when I met him. I will never forgive him for making me feel that I was not good enough to the point where I almost committed suicide in the bathroom at home, with him on the other side of the door, egging me on as I wrote a goodbye letter to my parents apologising for having to kill myself, but seeing no reason to live, being worthless, as I was made to feel.

I am NOT worthless. I am worth more than him. I am worth more than a man with no conscience, with no thought for anyone other than himself, a selfish being with no love for any other than the reflection. I was married to Narcissus, and I grew dim in his shadow, but now the sun has moved on, and I can warm myself in the glow of those around me who care for more than the self, those that make my life worthwhile, and those I care about, and am cared for by in return. The two-way relationship of true friends and loved ones is worth a million relationships where the self and ego are all and everyone else is but a bug to be trodden underfoot whenever they are a nuicance.

I am stronger. I am better. I am a PERSON.

Update

2008-02-29T00:55:00.003Z

Hmmm... where to start...

Oh, do let's start with a link... http://loonies-bus.livejournal.com/

That's himself's blog. Feel free to peruse at your liesure. He's terribly complimentary about me in it, although I haven't exactly been glowing with praise for him in mine, so I suppose it's a bit tit-for-tat in some ways. Mind you, I tend to be a bit more honest about certain things rather than acting as if they didn't exist or happen.

Moving on... Things that have been happening...

He's been trying to get my address out of me. HA! I think not... He can't understand that there is a very good reason I don't want him having my address, and that very good reason is that I do NOT want him turning up on my doorstep, or even having the ability to post things to me in any way shape or form. The man is a violent bully. Would you want him turning up on your doorstep if you were in my shoes? Would you even consider handing out your address to someone who promised that they wouldn't do anything violent again and then broke that promise, even if they did say that they wouldn't waste the fuel or time?

Is it just me, or is that really indicative of someone who was over me well before I left, or someone in denial? One of the two... I'm leaning to the former, on the grounds that he ignored me for the most part for the last 4 or so years. Oh, and a little birdie tells me he's not pining for me, but may actually have some other bird to use as a doormat... Poor cow will learn the hard way unless someone else is nice enough to tell her what he's like. I can't do it, because I will just be seen as the bitter ex... Ah well...

Oh, in other news, I have recently been informed that the only piece of mail to turn up at my mailing address that got lost on it's way to my forwarding address was his divorce papers. That means I haven't been served with his papers, and it also means I have no idea what he's divorcing me for. My bet is that it's something that would make a good read if it was in the fiction section of the library. Frankly there are only 5 reasons for divorce in the UK, and those are:

1. Adultery
2. Unreasonable Behaviour
3. Desertion
4. Two years' separation with consent
5. Five years' separation without consent.

Numbers 3, 4 and 5 need a time period of not less than two years. Number one requires proof of adultery, and frankly, I could produce more proof of his infidelities than he could find to accuse me of the same thing. If he felt like dragging Bear into the equasion, there's no proof anything other than companionship and conversation has ever taken place, and besides, I'm not sure it classes as adultery when he actually sanctioned it beforehand and even TOLD me to go find another man because he was "dysfunctional"... A direct quote from himself, by the way...

So that leaves the Unreasonable Behaviour. I take it the fact that I didn't stick around to be ignored, humiliated, walked over and generally mentally abused COULD be construed as very unreasonable in his book... I suppose the Unreasonable Behaviour mentioned could be his own, although I don't think anyone has ever cited themselves as the guilty party in a divorce petition... This could be a landmark case...

Well, whatever it is, he needs an address to get the papers served, and there's yet another good reason not to give him my address. I'm not interested in whatever fiction he's come up with, and frankly, he'll have my solicitor's address soon enough, so he can go speak to him all he likes. My solicitor is well aware of the reasons I left, and things are happily progressing from my end of things too. We shall see how it all pans out I expect.

In other news... I've got back in touch with a few friends recently, and it's kept me busy with the snail mail while I don't have regular internet access. I've been knitting mittens and blankies in between reading and sleeping, trying to kill off some bug that I've picked up. I've not been out the house all that much except to pick up the odd pint of milk, and the rest of my recent days has been in bed. Tonight I am babysitting for a friend while she's out on a mission for something... Too convoluted a story to get into...

By the way... if I've written to you... WOULD IT KILL YOU TO WRITE BACK, YOU BASTARDS???? heheheh

Right... m'off to get some kip if I can... Insomnia is a bitch, although it meant I was awake at 4am when my sis rang from Tasmania...

Todays Words of the Day

2008-02-16T16:12:00.002Z

Thoughtless. Selfish. Uncaring. Bully.

That is all.

P.S...

2008-01-19T21:52:00.001Z

I forgot to add, in my happiness at getting my baby Bert back home...

HA... ENVY ME!!! My sister has invited me to join her for a cruise on board the QE2!!!

ENVY ME MORE!!! ... It's going to cost me a quid... HA!!!

Opulence, elegance, luxury, ballgowns, milionaires... *sigh*... life's rough, ain't it?

hehehe

The Great Escape...

2008-01-19T20:38:00.000Z

Hum it with me... Dum dum... dum dada dum dum...

What a day. Hamsters. Who'd have them? Me... Institutionalise me immediately.

Bert did his impression of The Great Escape last night and I was frantically ripping my bedsit to bits trying to find the little bleeder today. Four hours of trying to find him later, I took some stuff that had been packed, unpacked, checked, packed, unpacked, re-checked and repacked and declared probably hamster-free over to the flat. Everything was unpacked and triple-checked for an escapee at the flat, then it was back to the bedsit feeling downright miserable.

I'd lost my wee baby Bert. I felt like crying. I did so, copiously. Bert was my companion while I was home alone, regulating my sanity and giving me something to cling to when the deep pits of unhappiness threatened to swallow me up into the void.

I went shopping for some milk to try and keep my mind occupied. I got to the shop, tried to work out what I wanted to eat, bought a couple of tins of stuff and forgot to get milk... When I got back, Bear was busy looking for where Bert might have escaped to. He spotted a hole. He investigated. He ended up cutting a hole in the floor... At which point, a small, dust-encrusted, whiskery face appeared from a gap in the bricks about 18 inches under the floor! My Bert was fine, filthy, hungry and found! He was removed from his escape tunnel looking very relieved to see me, and settled happily in my hand, snuggling into me and nuzzling my fingers. After his "Welcome Back" cuddles, he was allowed a bite to eat, and then it was bathtime for the filthy wee sod.

Bert is now back in his silken sheets, all clean, fed, watered and happy to be home again. Tomorrow I have to find him a bigger tank or cage, something that he will have more dificulty breaking out of...

R.I.P...

2008-01-11T00:41:00.000Z

To my laptop... Poor thing has now shuffled off this mortal coil and gone to join the choir invisible... Might manage to retrieve things off it if I'm really lucky. Good job most things are saved on my computer and not the lappy. I'm currently sat at my mate's house typing this, and I doubt very much whether there will be too much in the way of communication from me for the forseeable unless someone can fix my poor, deceased laptop.

I think I might look up second-hand ones on e-bay...

Anyway.. Update...

Still no flat, still living in the glorified bedsit. Bert had a bath today and is now living in the lap of luxury in silk sheets after I cleaned his tank out and cut up an old silk shirt for him to use as bedding. He's doing better than me, and the comparable floorspace of his tank is better than my current residence. Spoiled hamster... But so worth it for the fun and company I get from him.

I spent the last couple of days sorting through my clothes and chucking out anything I didn't need, didn't wear or just plain didn't fit any more having shrunk out of a fair few pairs of trousers at the very least so far. I slimmed down my clothing to an extent that I'll be able to fit it into the one wardrobe and one chest of drawers I'll have in my flat. I've gone from ten black bags of stuff and a couple of suitcases down to a couple of suitcases, two black bags of clothes and two bags of linens, some of which I bought recently when I did a wee bit of a shop at the discount stores in town.

Oooh, on that score... I spent some money after finally getting some from the government... I spent 90 quid in a few hours picking up things for my new life. I bought 6 towels (I have a towel fetish I think, since I have a good stock already) a fitted sheet (Practical, and replacing one with a rip in), Matress cover (well, to be honest my current bed has so many springs poking out, I ain't taking any chances), duvet (because the eiderdown will be too warm in the summer, and frankly, at 4 quid, it's a good matress cover on my single bed right now) Laundry basket (Told you I was being practical) loo brush (another practicality) bath mat set (ditto on the practicality, but my shower room is too small for the bath mat, so it's going in my bedroom), lampshade (frivolity, but I liked it... Plus it's for the hall so mildly practical), dinner service (OK, so it's a bit posh, but I wasn't turning down a 4-place setting service for a tenner), 4 wine glasses (same as the china, but only four quid), 4 tumblers (ditto, but three quid), an absolutely lush tea set of six cups and saucers in white china with gold, blue and cream decoration (very swish, totally impractical for a daily basis, but hell, for eight quid I wasn't going to pass up the bargain), door mat (practicality struck again) a hall runner rug (well, I need one for the hall, don't I?), a lighthouse tea light holder (hell I liked it and it was 99p) and my final bit of frivolity was a set of fairy lights in blue and white. Can you believe all that cost just 90 quid? I couldn't, but it did. I love shopping like that...

Ah well, there's not much else been doing. I await the day I can move into my flat with impatience, but I can wait I suppose. It's been this long, I suppose another week ain't going to hurt. I just want to unpack...

Oh, in between times I have a few other things going on. Got an interview with the job centre so they can make sure that I'm getting the right benefit, then I have another interview/meeting thing with the local Women's Aid, as well as having to find a launderette, as I don't have a washing machine at the mo and the laundry doesn't half pile up after three weeks. I'm just glad that a) I have a fairly good stock of undies, and b) I washed some by hand in the kitchen sink the other week... I just don't have much drying space with one small radiator, no airer and few places to hang stuff... If I was in a silly mood, I might have asked for suggestions, but knowing the mental age/mentality of the general clientelle that comment on my meanderings, I think I'll pass (yes, that means you sims, and you Angel... He was right about the "crazy lady" bit, but you were also right about his lack of faculties... I personally think you both lost it years ago...)

Hmmm... any other excitement? Can't think of any. Biggest excitement for me these days seems to be either playing with my hamster or going shopping for cereal. Woo. Tomorrow I have the thrills of getting electric and popping into the bank, after which I can either nip into the pet shop to see about prices for bigger tanks for my rapidly expanding Bert, or I can go to the laundrette to find out how much it costs for a wash and dry of my undies.

Oh the excitement... Ah well...

Update

2007-12-29T17:18:00.000Z

Well, goodness knows when I will get to post this, but for the record, it’s Friday 28th December as I write. It might be a while before I get internet access again, but I felt like writing something at least.

Let me see… What’s been doing? Well, Christmas came and went in a gloriously nondescript fashion. A week ago today I was supposed to move into a flat after much badgering of the local housing people and finally being offered a place to live. Supposed to anyway, but unfortunately it’s not finished yet. I’m currently living in a glorified bed-sit, more glamorously referred to as a studio flat, ground floor in an old Victorian house, which is pretty cold, but definitely warmer than the cottage in the middle of nowhere, furnished with only a wardrobe and single bed. I’m not sure when I will finally get to move into my new flat, but I’ve been assured that this is just a temporary measure. Another week perhaps and I will be in my own place, able to unpack a few things and perhaps retrieve some of the other things I have in various places.

The good news is that I now have a permanent resident companion. Bert is my new companion, and he is a lively three-week old hamster with plenty of energy who loves being out with his new mummy, messing about crawling all over me, trying to throw himself off the edge of the bed when he’s on here with me and off on a big explore, and today was given the gift of a hamster ball, and has been making very good use of it, scurrying around and bumping into the walls and limited furniture. At the moment he is asleep in his wee hamster tank, which will become just a travelling cage for him once I move, as I have plans for a bigger, glass tank for him to run around in and call home when he’s not out and about in his ball. We spent Christmas day together, and he even had a share of my dinner, with a treat of a bit of lettuce. He’s going to be a very fat, spoiled hamster. I can tell already. He’ll be the happiest fat, spoiled hamster around though with a very full and active life, not just stuck in a cage all his short years. His full name is Rameses I AKA Bert… He’s a posh hamster, but don’t tell him that or he’ll be getting funny ideas about getting servants and stuff…

I’ve been getting the odd text and phone call from various people to keep me in the loop of what’s doing, and a couple of visits from one of my friends, but for the most part it’s just me and Bert. I’ve been knitting a fair bit and have completed seven blankets and a baby cardigan in the past few weeks. I’m starting to run short of wool, but at least now I’m not too far from a local charity shop that sells it, so I might manage to get some before I move, as I don’t know where to get it local to my new place. I went and did some essentials shopping today with the normal bread and milk bit, and then did the local charity shops to see if there was anything good there that I’ll need for my new place. Nothing doing yet, but I got a couple of books to read so I have something other than Pride and Prejudice to read. I’ve already been through it twice then dipped in at odd points and re-read several sections just for want of any other books to lose myself in.

I’ve been keeping myself as positive as I can, although that’s sometimes not as easy as it sounds. Some things just drag my memory back to certain points, flashbacks to the aftermath of the violence or things that remind me of what himself did to me and I end up back where I started emotionally. An inadvertent comment, a touch on my neck, some drunken female screaming at her bloke to get off her on their way home… It all drags me back to being strangled, pushed around, the pain when I hit the sofa, trying to get away from him or any the other bad memories associated with it. It’s getting easier with time and repetition to tell people roughly what’s gone on with regards the domestic violence, although I’m not looking forward to having to go over it all in detail when I see the Mental Health Nurse in the next week or so. I’m going to have to phone up and check when my appointment is, because I can’t get over to my forwarding address or my contact address to get my post that’s been sent out at the moment. There’s no point in giving the address here, since it’s so temporary, and there’s not usually anyone at the flats, which I don’t have a key for, so I can’t really collect mail there. I’ll be a lot happier when I have a permanent address and not all the temporary ones here and there all over the place.

Oh, here’s a laugh for you. Himself thinks I’ve been keeping tabs on him via Bear reading his blog. My mate phoned me yesterday and she was telling me she’s been reading what he’s been up to and passed on a couple of bits that I had to laugh at. Apparently the bathroom is nearly painted, which made me smile, since it got re-tiled about two years ago now and has been in a constant state of redecoration ever since. I do wonder what colour it has gone, since the colour it was when I left was the first of two coats it needed in a colour that himself chose. Ah well, at least its finally getting done, although it’s not me keeping tabs on the blog and neither is it Bear. Also it has been assumed that I had Bear keeping me company for Christmas day… He spent his Christmas with his family, as he should, presents with the kids in the morning and a big family dinner then sleeping it off on the sofa, same as most of the rest of the fathers of the country. Who am I to impose on that? I also wouldn’t impose on friends and their families, and as was said before, am too skint to consider going all the way to Scotland to see the parents. I spoke to them on the phone on Christmas day and they were already on the fizzy before lunch, enjoying a really relaxed Christmas and planning to veg out in front of the telly after lunch. I had to laugh though because mum was singing Christmas carols while on her second glass of fizz, and I dread to think whether she was fit for cooking the dinner! It’s only one day, and they were making the most of it, although mum’s jokes after one glass of wine are dire and Bert is now known as my Christmas Hamper… Don’t ask…

Ah well, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep up the typing now. My laptop isn’t very well and I really need a new one, as the power lead is temperamental at best and isn’t charging the battery properly. Hopefully I will be able to get it fixed fairly cheaply, or I’ll be able to get a new one if I scrimp and save a lot. I say new, but I’ll probably get something second hand cheaper, and all I really want it for is doing a bit of writing here and there, so it doesn’t have to be top-notch or anything flash. First priority though is getting essentials for the flat, unless I’m allowed to retrieve some bits and pieces from the house, although I sent a text to ask politely if it would be possible and acceptable to arrange a time to come over and fetch things or have stuff picked up and so far have had no reply despite texting over a week and a half ago.

I’ve realised how independent I’ve become over the last few years with the way I’ve been left to my own devices. I thought it would be really difficult living on my own, having to budget my own bills, sort out my own shopping, feed myself properly and start a new life in a new area. I suppose I should thank him for the amount of inattention I had from him, as it has really prepared me for living a single life. I don’t count myself as attached, despite having Bear, because at the end of the day, he’s not really mine. He belongs to S and his family, not to me. I’m ok with that though, despite thinking I would be more bothered by having to share. I suppose it’s because the original arrangement was to have my marriage, Bear’s marriage and have each other as well, but as it turns out, I have my own life while he still has his wife and family. I don’t really see it as much of a change if I’m being totally honest, since with himself sleeping or being on the computer all the time he was home, I was mostly a single person anyway. If he’d managed to spend his available time with me rather than on his computer, things might have been different, but now we will never know.

I went to the doc last week just to go over my depression and stuff and she’s obviously had my notes from my old doc. She asked about my periods and stuff, and I’m happy to say that I’ve not had any problems with them since leaving home. I even cancelled my hospital appointment, because I was out the area and couldn’t get there and spoke to the doc about it. She decided she wants to see how it goes, because she reckons the majority of the problems were down to stress and wants to monitor how it goes now that I’m out of that situation. So far so good… I’m not having to take an extra ten tablets a day for those problems. I just have to wait to see the Mental Health Nurse now to see what they say about it, although I’ve been talking to the local Women’s Aid to try and get a little peace of mind within myself, and their view is that while I need counselling, so does he, because he does seem to have some issues which are what was made him violent in the first place. I expect he will blame me, but I know it’s been going on a lot longer than our train-wreck of a marriage. Maybe he will come around and get help before waiting to be told that he needs to get help as and when the police knock the door to him. I feel sorry for him in a way, because I don’t think he can see a problem with the way he acted, but under the circumstances, it would probably be advisable for him to volunteer to get help before that help is insisted upon by people with more clout than a disregarded, disrespected, dismissed ex.

It’s now been nearly seven and a half weeks since I walked out, scared and not knowing what to do, where to go or how to move on. So far I have been under three different areas of the Women’s Aid, have had to travel miles to and from council offices trying to get them to understand that I had nowhere to live, spent two weeks looking for a flat to live in after being told that’s what I had to do for a certain scheme, then after those two weeks was told I hadn’t even been accepted onto the scheme. I honestly thought that I would be spending Christmas in a refuge with the way my housing situation was going on. The Job Centre finally processed my claim for benefit too, which only took them six weeks, and managed to put the first hundred quid into my account just as I went over my overdraft limit, so at least I had some cash for Christmas. I’m still waiting for the backdated claim to be paid, which should be within the next few days, so at least I’ll have some cash to start me off in my new home.

After going through all of the above, I now realise how bad the system is for those who don’t know how to get through it. If I hadn’t had bear and my friend looking after me, I would never have made it through the tangled mess of paperwork and numerous hoops they expected me to jump through. With the emotional state I was in as well, walking out of the council offices once because I was convinced they weren’t going to help, there’s no way I could have done any of it without help getting through it. It was very unlikely I would get a council property anyway, because their criteria classed me as “Intentionally Homeless” simply because I’d come to an area I had no connection with other than friends, which made me non-priority. I came here because I don’t have connections here, and it’s an area I don’t think himself would even consider looking for me in, even if he could be bothered. I don’t think he would be bothered in all honesty, but I refuse to take the chance.

I am very fortunate with my friends because of the type of people they are. They’ve all been so good to me, giving me support either by being there for me, driving hundreds of miles to help, or even just keeping in touch via text, although I will apologise for any not replied to, as the credit has run out on my pay-as-you-go phone and I won’t be able to top it up till I get the money I’m expecting in the next few days. It’s nice to know that people do care, as my self-esteem was at such a low ebb. It’s been a shock to find out how much people do think of me and how many people class me as a good friend, not just an acquaintance or part of a “couple-friend” i.e. a spouse or partner of a friend who then becomes a friend by default. To all those friends, I would like to say a big thank you for your support in the last few weeks, and the continued support I know you will give just by being there for me. Party at mine once I’ve finally managed to move in…

Ah well, I best go. Bert is busy running around in his hamster ball as happy as you like, but keeps coming back over to where I’m sat and looking pointedly at me, probably wanting to climb all over me and get in my sleeve and sleep again, same as he did yesterday. Will be back online sometime, just not yet…

Update stuff

2007-11-28T18:50:00.000Z

Still homeless, nearly skint, still only just able to get online at a friend's, probably going to be spending Christmas in a women's refuge, possibly able to send my parents a card if I'm really lucky and can afford a stamp as well as a card, no address for people to send me anything, not even a card and starting to run out of optimism..

I read his blog. He's bemoaning the fact that Christmas will be shit. Yeah right. All his wages from doing all the overtime an extra shifts, his family looking after him, his mum cooking, him able to buy himself and other people Christmas presents...

Sorry, but I can't find any sympathy. I didn't pack a dictionary.

Well off the planet...

2007-11-21T19:05:00.000Z

Well, I’ve been off for a little while again, although this time I have a very good reason. I’m not living at my old address now. I moved out on the 7th and I’m now somewhere else entirely with no net connection. I’m writing this sat in the house I’m currently occupying and will post it when I get the chance.

This is going to take some time to tell, so please bear with me. I will be as fair as possible, and completely honest in what I’m going to write. I’m not looking for sympathy or pity. I just want to tell my side of the story. I know himself has been posting bits and pieces in his blog, and I’ve read some of them. I wasn’t impressed with what he’s been telling the world about my leaving. This is my chance to tell my side, and give the real reasons that he’s already aware of and has been since the day I left.

To tell the whole story I have to go back a few years. Himself and I met seven years ago in July. I can tell you the date too, but it’s not important to the story. We met and he was everything I wanted and needed. He was caring, gentle, attentive, great to be with and a wonderful lover who wanted to spend time with me. I wanted to be with him, but we lived a fair distance apart. Three weeks after we met, he asked me to marry him. It was done over the phone and I wouldn’t answer till he was with me. I accepted anyway. We started thinking about getting married, but decided to wait till we had somewhere to live before we did. It was the June of 2001 that we got the keys to the house that was our home and my home from that point till the 7th of this month.

I can’t tell you exactly where it all went wrong. I know that after the honeymoon, things started “settling”, or rather slipping into obscurity. He started spending more time on his computer. Admittedly I was spending time on mine at that point, but I was off work ill, and it was something to keep me occupied. My time was spent talking to people all over the globe and playing an online Roleplay game called Mafia. His time was spent talking to women, and one in particular, who he would spend hours talking to, telling her to do all sorts of things to herself in some sort of sexual gratification way. I’m not sure what he was getting out of it, but I got copies of all the conversations and read them. He told her he loved her, that I knew all about it and that he wanted to be with her anyway. I got suspicious about the conversations because he kept covering the message windows or getting irritable if I looked over my shoulder at his computer screen, so I checked up on him after a few weeks of the same behaviour. I found a message and she spoke to me. She apologised, because she thought I knew all about it and forwarded me all the messages. They’re all on my computer still, but that’s currently not where I am.

My mate M came over to comfort me and help me work out what I wanted to do. I decided it was just a hiccup caused by me being ill etc, so I decided I wanted to let it slide after talking to him, to put it behind us, but I didn’t forget it. He’d lied to me, lied to her and basically done whatever he pleased and sod me and my feelings.

Communication wasn’t great really from then on. I was suspicious of what he was getting up to on his computers, but he changed passwords and things so I couldn’t find anything else out.

He’s not good at talking about his feelings or about the relationship we had. We drifted apart mostly because every time I made an effort to get close, I got pushed away. I’ve been getting ignored for the most part for some time now.

I couldn’t tell you the first time things went really bad. I know it was probably down to frustration on my part about something, probably being ignored, because that’s what most of the arguments stemmed from. I’d try to tell him that I was tired of being ignored. His response that he was too tired, too busy, too whatever, just in from work, just going to work, in the middle of something… I would say that most of the time he was just too busy with his computer, his films, books, anything that wasn’t me basically. He didn’t care enough to want to find out what was wrong and perhaps talk it over to try to find some sort of solution. After days of non-communication, whatever it was bugging me would boil over and I basically would start an argument, just to get some sort of reaction from him. It wasn’t intentional. I didn’t want an argument. I just wanted him to realise that there was a problem. His reaction to me being stressed about a situation would be to shout over whatever I was saying, not listening, so I’d try to get him to listen by being louder. It didn’t work.

Anyway, it started out just as arguments, harsh words on both sides. Afterwards it would go back to the way it had been before with him living his own life almost as a single person, making me feel like an inconvenience. I started going off to visit friends to have at least some kind of life, which he seemed to be fine with, unless you read his recent blog entries. He seems less that impressed with it now.

The arguments escalated. They started getting out of control. I would get annoyed and start chucking things around, mostly clothes, cushions, bedding: all soft things, nothing breakable, nothing harmful. He started getting pushy, shoving me around, grabbing my arms and dragging me wherever. He threatened to push me downstairs once.

It was scary to be honest, but unfortunately it didn’t stop my frustrations with the relationship. It just took a little more each time for me to need to have my say, to ignore his “too tired” excuses and try to get across to him that I wasn’t happy. Each time it took less and less to trigger his aggressiveness.

I lied to people about what was going on. I covered up what went on in that house. I laughed things off with other people. I thought it was my fault, that each time it was something I did or said that made him violent. I’ve since realised that there was no need for it, that if he’d been willing to talk, wanting to understand, interested in what was upsetting me and how it could be fixed, that the arguments and violence would never have happened. If we had been in a marriage rather than an estrangement, things would have been different. I tried to make it a marriage. I did little things for him, wanted to care for him, to have him let me do things for him, make nice meals, cups of tea, breakfast in bed, bring him clean clothes when he got up, make sure he never wanted for anything, cook him meals to take to work for his night shift dinners, nice meals he could just heat up, so I knew he was eating properly. I got nothing in return. Nothing.

I lost the motivation to do things. When you hardly get a kind word or thanks for the effort you put in, you stop wanting to make that effort. What’s the point? When he did manage to do things for me, I was pleasantly surprised, and made sure he knew I was grateful. After months of getting no thanks or gratitude for the things I was doing for him, I decided that I would do the same. No thanks for things done, no comment about washing done, nothing. He didn’t understand that I was doing it to show him how it was for me. I tried to explain, but he didn’t get it.

He’s seeming to say these days that I abandoned him and went off doing my own thing. Frankly, yes I did, because I was tired of sitting downstairs doing whatever either watching TV, reading, listening to music… He would come home from work, walk in the front door, go upstairs, switch on his computer, go to the loo, go back to his computer and that was him for the night. In the mornings, he would get up, switch on his computer, go to the loo, go on his computer, go to work, and the whole thing would be repeated when he got home again. I used to ask if he minded me going to M’s for the weekend. He always replied that it was fine and just to let him know by text when I was on my way home. If he really had a problem with it, he should really have said something at the time, but that’s not how he seems to work. It’s fine until it suits him to complain about it.

I can’t tell you times or dates of the things that happened other than two incidents, one in June 2006 when I wrote in my blog that I’d fallen into the sofa. I didn’t. I had “help” with my severe whiplash that was originally suspected to be a fractured neck, and for which I got x-rayed 7 times. He started the lie. It took him over three quarters of an hour to call for an ambulance after an argument turned very nasty indeed and I was thrown around like a rag doll, bending the clothes airer by being thrown into it before being dragged up from that by the arm and thrown across the living room to land head first in the sofa, right against one of the wooden uprights in the back. I was in agony and couldn’t move, still getting yelled at until he realised just how much pain I was in. He made me move from where I was, face down on the sofa, kneeling on the carpet, afraid to move because when I had tried, the pain was almost unbearable. He got me moved so I was sitting on the edge of the sofa eventually. I was trying so hard not to move my neck at all, afraid of what damage had been done and what more damage moving might cause.

Three quarters of an hour later he finally called for an ambulance. He told them I had fallen over. I didn’t ask him to tell them that. When they arrived, he told them the same lie. What was I supposed to do? He was there telling them how it had happened, how my balance was bad and I’d taken a tumble into the sofa. Could I have told the truth? I don’t know. I wanted to protect him, because doing that meant I was safe too. If I lied, then it meant he didn’t get arrested. If he didn’t get arrested, he didn’t lose his job. If he didn’t lose his job, I still had somewhere to live. If I didn’t tell on him and went along with what he said, it meant he couldn’t get angry at me for telling the truth.

I loved him that much, cared for him that much that I lied to protect him. I still can’t bring myself to hate him, despite the fact that I have had to stop lying and start telling people the truth about my life at home with him.

I have a crime number from when the police were called out to the house in January of this year. The letter with the crime number came with a leaflet on domestic abuse and violence. They were called after another argument got out of hand and he was following me around the house as I was trying to get away from him, to put distance between us and he was still grabbing me and pushing me around, using the fact that he is bigger and stronger than me to make sure I knew what he was capable of.

I know what he is capable of. I know it very well. I ended up getting picked up by M after one incident, and she was appalled by the hand-print bruises I had from kidneys to knees on both sides of my back. He’s had his hands round my neck, pinning me on my back on the bed, crushing my throat and stopping me from breathing almost to the point where I would have passed out. When he finally let go, I was almost sick, but I was being dragged by the collar of my t-shirt to the point where the neckline ripped. I still have the t-shirt, as I couldn’t throw it away. It was a present from my sister. Another time, to get away from him I went into the spare room and sat behind the door to try and stop him opening it, but he just forced his way in by barging the door, squashing me between the door and the wall, bruising my arms and hips. He broke the whole catch out of the door frame on the bathroom door because I’d locked myself in there to try to get away from him. I don’t remember when each thing happened. I do know I wanted to phone the police once or twice and got the phone grabbed out of my hand so forcefully that it hurt my fingers. After things like that happened, I didn’t think I would ever be able to get enough time alone to make any calls, so stopped trying.

There were many times that things happened. Sometimes it was just arguments, but most times ended up with him lashing out at me. If I threw something like a towel at him in frustration, I would get ten times worse back with his hands. I never left, because I had nowhere to go. My friends that knew little bits of what was going on said I should leave him, but if I did that, where would I go? What would I do? Everything I had was tied to that house, and I don’t have the money to go looking for somewhere to live.

Now for another part of the story…

All of the above had been going on anyway, but sexually, there was very little going on either. No communication, no sex, just frustrations while he sat with his e-mail downloading pictures of women in little or no clothing in all sorts of situations. I did ask how he thought it made me feel when he did that and wouldn’t even look at me, even stood naked by his elbow.

In April of this year I was over with M for the weekend. A text conversation started up between himself and me, and it got quite deep in places. I asked M to transcribe it as it took up almost all of my message space. It’s on my other computer. The conversation is basically saying that things aren’t working, that there’s the possibility that a separation would be beneficial, and then something I didn’t really expect. He told me that because his sex drive was virtually nil, I could get that side of things from someone else, or multiple someones if I wanted to. My immediate thought was that it wasn’t what I wanted, that the person I wanted to be with like that was himself and not other people. I didn’t want other people, I wanted my husband, and I needed him to want me. It upset me that he felt that he could share me like that.

We had sex twice this year. Once was in April and once in June. He blames the fact that I have had menstrual problems, but to be honest, had he asked, I wasn’t bleeding that much sometimes. It seemed like it was yet another excuse not to do anything, because if you want it, you want it, and if there’s an issue with blood, then there’s always a shower…

I’ve been considering what he said about other people for a while. I thought about it carefully. I considered what he was saying when it was offered, working out why he would suddenly tell me it was OK for me to sleep with other men. I considered looking, but wasn’t sure I wanted to, so didn’t really do much about it. I chatted to plenty of people on the net through a website that would have catered for the no-strings sex had I wanted it. There were plenty of offers, but I didn’t take any of them. I still wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted. I’m not into sleeping around, so I wasn’t sure about just going out and having sex with people just to fill that need. What I wanted was a husband who cared and showed it, but I wasn’t going to get that. I knew that already, so I didn’t do anything about it. The website I chatted on caters for the swinging scene, and I didn’t think that fitted with what I was looking for: I wanted some sort of friendship and at the very least the appearance of romance with just one person, not multiple partners on a very casual basis with no emotions or feelings behind the sex.

The whole idea revolved around wanting to keep the marriage together by giving me the sexual gratification I was lacking. That’s basically what he offered. I was eventually happy to go along with it, because, at the end of the day, if I could remove a frustration it meant that there may well be less arguments and less chance of the past repeating itself. Call me stupid if you like, but when things were quiet, at the end of the day I had a home, the probability of work after my op in December, and life could go on as normal.

I went away to visit my friend A for a week in October. Her chap picked me up and took me over to hers. He’s a nice bloke and we got on well. Another friend turned up on the Monday…

I’ll rewind the timeline again here: In about May or June I was over at M’s and we popped over to a military vehicle show to see my mate A and her latest acquisitions of a horsebox and snow track. It was absolutely tipping down, so we didn’t hang around too long outside and went into the horsebox for a cuppa and a chat. The chap who had worked on the snow track to get it running for shows was there with his family, but I really didn’t notice him too much, as I was busy gossiping with A about things and catching up, because I hadn’t seen her since Beltring last year.

At Beltring, the chap, who shall now be known as Bear, was there again with his armoured landrover, and he was over seeing A quite often, as A’s daughter was part of his camp over in quiet camping and he was over helping with the snow track as there were bits and pieces needing done. As normal, I was hugging people, and Bear just became part of the circle of people that got hugged. To start with, I don’t think he really knew what to do with a small person who kept grabbing him for hugs. He got the idea in the end after watching me hug loads of other people. His problem was that he knew himself was around somewhere, and just found it a bit awkward or possibly disrespectful to be hugging someone else’s wife.

I will point out here that Bear is not what would typically be known as my “type” when it comes to men. I usually go for the tall, good looking, slim, fit… You know, the typical ideal of what a bloke should look like. I’ve never been into “squidgy” blokes, and Bear is squidgy. Bear is also only a few inches taller than me and a bit on the fluffy side. It’s funny really, but meeting Bear has made me realise that what’s portrayed as the “ideal” isn’t what the reality is. The media hypes the chiselled looks, firm physique, toned, tanned and muscly men, when in reality, it’s a short, fat, balding, fluffy squidgy Bear that has made me feel the happiest and most comfortable.

Bear was the other friend who was over at A’s when I went over. We’d swapped a mail or two in between, just being silly and flirting a bit. I didn’t really mean very much by it because, like I said, not my type.

We sat and chatted at A’s. A lot of chatting about this and that. I felt really comfortable with him, and felt comfortable discussing what had been said in April to see what he thought of the situation. His basic response was that he’d done the same thing for ten years, saving his marriage to someone who was a bit like my husband in the way she mostly ignores Bear. That other relationship ended badly, with the woman involved telling Bear that he had to leave his wife and kids to be with her. He refused and that basically ended the affair, leaving him still trying to make the marriage work without having someone there to care for who would care back, someone to talk to that had some kind of interests outside of soap operas on telly or one particular fiction writer. Bear is tactile. S isn’t. Bear likes good, home-cooked food. S does stuff out of packets and tins. Bear has a high sex-drive. S doesn’t and would prefer to go to bed and watch telly or read a book. Even if there is sex, S apparently isn’t very demonstrative of enjoyment, lying there and taking everything he does with very little expression of pleasure. Bear is the same as me: gets a lot of the enjoyment in sex out of the pleasure that we give to the other person and being able to see that enjoyment.

Sex with himself basically came to him rolling over from lying facing away from me, lying on his back, pulling me into his side, expecting me to play with him, then get on top and do whatever until he’d had his fun. It used to be better. I couldn’t tell you when things changed, but they did, and it’s been the way I just described for a while. Bear described sex with S as pretty much her getting her fun without seeming to enjoy it over much.

Bear was looking for someone to be with, to talk to, to spend time with, someone to care for who would care back, someone to fill the gap in his life that would mean he could stay married to S. He doesn’t want to split up with her. He cares for her, and he cares for his kids. He does love her, which is why he wants to stay, but to stay without having the added comfort of someone who cares back would leave him in the position I was in: frustrated and wondering if it would be possible to leave.

I thought about leaving a couple of years ago. I didn’t. Bear’s thought about leaving, but doesn’t because he still cares a lot, he loves his kids and he can keep his family and home by having a second relationship.

We spoke a lot and realised that we both wanted the same thing: to keep the marriages together by having other people to fill in the gaps. We spoke about it a bit more, discussed how it could work with the distances involved, whether the arrangement would be an exclusive one, in other words just our marriages and each other without anyone else being involved. Once I was happy that it would be exclusive and what I needed to keep my marriage together without being a danger to it, I spoke to himself by text and asked whether a relationship with Bear would be acceptable. Himself was fine with it from what I could tell around comments about DVD purchases and queries about urban slang. I kept his responses to the texts I sent and transcribed them onto my other computer. Unfortunately I purged my sent messages so I didn’t have all my comments there. What Bear and I have is more of a comfortable friendship than any kind of affair outside of a marriage though. We talk, we hug, we hold hands, snuggle up on the sofa and just enjoy each other’s company. He’d prefer to be known as “’Ard as nails” or “Butch and Manly”, but I know he’s a kind, caring individual who is happy just to spend time talking, or just not talking and being close. He’s not afraid of his emotions, and openly showed them when talking about certain parts of his life. Himself just wanted to be the rough, tough, man’s man, someone who doesn’t show emotions, and who ultimately ends up being an emotional void, a loveless individual who comes across as uncaring, unfeeling and unkind. I wish that he had learned a long time ago that real men are not afraid to have emotions. Perhaps things might have been different if that had been the case.

Bear was over at the house a couple of times. They met. Himself just spoke about work and trains. There was no comment about the arrangement, no warnings about being careful or sensible about things, no making sure that I was ok and safe. Just trains, work, more work, trains…

I asked after Bear had left whether himself was OK about Bear being there. His response was that he was fine about it. I asked again another time after Bear and I were talking online and Bear said he was concerned that he was treading on toes by being in the house when himself was there. Himself said again that he didn’t have a problem with it. If there had been a problem, something should have been said on either or both of those occasions.

Bear and I had been talking and he got me to admit what had happened in the past with the arguments and violence. He got me to realise that I wasn’t safe in that house and I started making plans to leave, possibly by Easter. By then I could get enough money together to put a deposit on a place to live, I could have all my bits and pieces organised and it might even give me a chance to talk to himself and let things come to a natural conclusion in a mutually amicable way, both sides accepting that the relationship was at an end. I had time to work on it, time to get the house sorted out, time to work on how to speak to himself, to do the decent thing. Bear sat and spoke to me at length, playing both sides, making me look at things from himself’s point of view as well as my own. It was nice to have someone to bounce things off, someone who was fair and impartial. M has a tendency to be completely on my side, and so does A, so it was good to have the different viewpoint to keep everything in perspective and be allowed to make my own decisions rather than be told what I should be doing. It was good to know as well that whatever conclusions I reached, Bear was happy to help and support me.

My decision to sort things out and make a break of it basically necessitated the house being cleaned, tidied, finished off in places with bits and pieces and generally sorting out what was what. I told my sister H what I was planning, and while she didn’t agree with the initial secrecy, she was happy to help me with the housework frenzy that was going to happen. To be honest, the house was a tip. I’d lost the drive to do anything because I just wasn’t motivated. I was being ignored, so I passed that on by ignoring the mess I ended up living in.

H was due over on the Monday and Bear offered to help. H’s car decided that it would be a good thing to die over the weekend, so it was just me and Bear. Because H was going to come over a fortnight later and was going to stay for a week, I decided it might be a good idea to start with the spare room, which is the one with the futon in as well as the computers. That would at least mean H had somewhere to sleep that wasn’t the sofa in the living room.

During the day, himself rang. I told him that we were tidying and that I had even thrown the empty cigarette paper packs off his desk in the bin. He started throwing a fit that his things had been thrown in the bin, and I ended up hanging up the phone, because he just wasn’t getting the fact that it was just rubbish that had been thrown, not anything that could even slightly be conceivably not be rubbish. Empty cigarette paper boxes and wrappers are rubbish. Paper with numbers, names or anything written or printed on are not rubbish. I can tell the difference.

I could also tell that empty diet coke bottles should go in the bin, as should old pizza boxes, including mouldy contents and dip pots, garlic bread and all sorts of other things including empty dessert pots that had just ended up on the floor, kicked under the computer desks or under the futon. Not just one or two, but four dustbin bags full, even with boxes and bottles flattened. It all went out, things got put away in spaces, stuff got moved so there was floor. Nothing that was not rubbish was thrown out. Anything important or that looked like it could be important for something, no matter how insignificant, got kept and put somewhere. If it looked like his, it went somewhere near his computer. Printed papers went on his printer. His desk only had the rubbish removed and nothing else was touched or rummaged through, just obvious rubbish thrown out.

He got home. I was downstairs with Bear just talking about what else needed tidied, going over what had been done, having a cup of tea and just chilling out. Himself came in and went upstairs. I went up to put away some clean washing. Next thing I knew, he was ranting about his stuff being moved. When I say ranting, I really mean it. He was going totally nuts because stuff had been thrown out. I couldn’t go on with what I was doing and went downstairs in a bit of a state. Bear went to explain that the only things that had gone were the rubbish and what had been done, where stuff had been moved to and so on, but himself wasn’t listening. As far as he was concerned, all his stuff had been thrown in the bin.

Bear isn’t a small chap, and neither is he a coward, having been in the military and facing worse situations in his life, but even he felt intimidated by the force of himself’s anger. I was afraid that something would kick off. I was scared that himself would go for Bear. I know what himself is capable of, and I didn’t like the way things were going. I was sat on the sofa trying to be as small as possible in a corner, shaking and in tears. I knew Bear planned to go home that evening, and I dreaded being on my own in the house with himself the way he’d gone off about his “stuff”. Bear came down and saw what state I was in and decided there was no way he was going to leave me after what he had witnessed. Himself eventually went to bed after doing whatever he had to do on his computer, not another word said from him. Bear calmed me and spoke to me, reassuring me that while he was there, nothing was going to happen to me.

We spent the night talking. By 4am I had made the decision that there was no way I could stay in that house, in that environment, being chastised for the state of the house and then having that reaction when I threw rubbish in the bin. By 4 I knew I had to leave, but I also knew I couldn’t say anything to himself, because I didn’t know what the reaction would be. Bear decided it would be best if he wasn’t there when himself got up, so he reluctantly left me and just went to sit in his car till himself had gone to work. I wasn’t happy about being in the house on my own with himself, and Bear told me to have a blank text ready to send if anything happened. If Bear got a blank text, he would be straight in, knowing that there was a situation that I couldn’t cope with on my own.

I heard himself’s alarm go off at half four as I sat downstairs on the sofa, still curled up in a ball, phone in hand with the blank text just needing the send button hit. By 5, himself still wasn’t out of bed. At ten past 5 I steeled myself and went upstairs, stuck my head round the bedroom door and said it was ten past five and time to get up. I got the reply that he knew and was getting up and I went back downstairs. Himself did whatever, got up, dressed, and then he came downstairs and went straight out without another word or even me seeing him. I sent bear a text about 15 minutes later saying himself had gone so Bear knew it was OK to come back. By the time he let himself back in, I was upstairs emptying my linen out the airing cupboard. I took sheets that came from R’s after he had died, duvet sets that I had bought, pillowcases that had come with the sheets, towels I had bought or brought with me when I came to that house, teatowels, table linen and anything else that was mine. By that point I was working on pure adrenaline. I knew I had a time limit, and I was determined not to be there by the time himself got home.

By six I was still running on adrenaline, packing things out my wardrobe. Bear made me stop and go phone my sister to talk to her and see what she thought. I told her what had happened after apologising for waking her at that ungodly hour, and asked her what she thought. Her response was to offer to come and help me pack. She also offered to speak to the parents about what had happened, which I gratefully accepted. It was hard enough telling her without having to tell my daddy what was going on.

I continued packing my clothes after the call, Bear helping by opening bags and packing a few essentials into a couple of suitcases, the remainder of my things just being shoved into bin bags. I knew I could only take what I could carry because of the swiftness of the decision, but I didn’t want to leave anything precious to me behind, just in case I couldn’t get them back. H offered to store those bits and pieces for me, Bear could take my suitcases and some other bits, and the remainder of the stuff got put in the garage. I made sure the things I took included cutlery from my Nana’s that I was given after she passed away, a couple of bowls I bought when I was at my sister’s once, a couple of my wooden utensils and one sharp knife I’d bought last year. I took the bear essentials of tea, coffee, sugar and a couple of mugs that I’d bought over the years and one that had also come from Nana’s. I only took stuff that was mine, although I knew I couldn’t take everything of mine. There’s still stuff in the house that I brought into the home or bought while there which I hope to one day be able to get back.

Himself phoned while I was packing. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to tell him what I was doing because I didn’t want him coming home and stopping me. I had made my mind up, and didn’t want him changing it, making me stay in a situation that I was scared of, or taking it out on my sister or Bear for helping me, or perhaps because he might think they railroaded me into doing what I did.

I walked away with three suitcases, one with my jewellery and some other valuables in and the other two just basic clothing that I’d need, two pairs of trainers, a holdall with a duvet, pillows and sheets in and the basics from the kitchen. My sister took the paintings from my mum and aunt, the clock that had belonged to my great aunt, the war medals that belonged to my great uncle and a few other things that I couldn’t store in the garage. I brought my laptop with me. My computer went to my sister’s. My parents sent me some money to buy food with via my sister, because other than that money, all I had left was about twenty pounds left over from the last of my wages paid at the end of September. I walked out that house with virtually nothing after virtually no planning.

Call me stupid if you like, but I’d stripped the bed of my eiderdown, my sheets, my pillows, my quilt. I remade the bed with his sheet, his duvet, his pillow. I made sure that it was made so he didn’t have to worry about making the bed after coming in from a long day at work.

I am currently living in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. It’s not a permanent thing, because it belongs to a couple of friends who have not long been divorced themselves and the house is going to be sold soon. When I arrived there was no heating, but I managed to get the fire going the day after I got here. It’s a wood burner, and I had to borrow a saw to cut up dead wood and old pallets to burn. I had to use some of my food money to buy coal as well to keep the fire going overnight. I’m trying to get a place to live, my own place, somewhere that will be my house, somewhere I can live, somewhere I can have my own life, look for a job, and basically start rebuilding my life again, learning to survive on my own, to trust people again and to stop lying to everyone about what has happened in my past.

I wanted to write all this down, so people know what really happened. Himself is busy telling people I ran off with another man or that he doesn’t know why I went. (Text edited out per request) I sent him a text before I even left the house. I sent the following to him at half past five:

“I’m really sorry, but we can’t go on with the way things are. Last night scared me because of the past. I’ve thought about this for the last two years and last night finally made me realise that while I still care for you I can’t live like this in constant worry about whether the past will repeat itself. I have moved as much of my things as I can and have left yours. I have taken nothing that’s not mine although I haven’t taken everything of mine. I hope we can work this out amicably as I don’t want to fall out with you and I would like to be able to sort the rest of our things together without any animosity. Can you please look after the cats and we can sort out what is happening with them when I have a more permanent place to live. Hope you understand but I have a feeling this might be a mutual feeling.”

It took till quarter to nine for him to send the reply “Thank you for the text. Couldn’t say anything at lunch then? And having the person you want to sleep with staying over while I was working made me feel good. Also having them going through my stuff was a wonderful idea of yours. Let me know how long till you pick the stuff left up. I’ll be putting it all in the old sewing room.”

That’s his reaction to me leaving. That’s his reaction to me telling him I can’t live scared of him. That’s all he could say about anything.

The following is the complete transcript of the conversation as it continued.

ME 20:51 What was I supposed to say? I was trying not to make things worse. You never seemed to be bothered by him being here since you said nothing other than work stuff. You scare me. It’s simple. I didn’t want confrontation over the phone. I did the majority of the packing with my sister anyway and none of your stuff was touched if it could be left. It’s nothing to do with (Bear) You made my mind up for me when I started wondering if you would do more damage to me.

HIMSELF 20.55 I was being very tired bloke getting told by him that he had sorted out my desk and stuff for me. Also you were quite comfy downstairs so I kept shut as I didn’t want to offend anyone. Was going to talk about it tonight, but seems you’ve jumped the gun.

ME 21:09 I wasn’t comfy at all. I was terrified of you hurting me again because of the nasty tone of your voice. Please respect my things. I didn’t do any damage to yours or move them unless I had to. I even made the bed up for you because I knew you would be tired. I was concerned about you and you never seemed to bother about anything of mine or anything I do. You don’t talk. I’m just expected to know what you’re thinking and I don’t.

08.11.2007

HIMSELF 00:32 Don’t forget you have the injection next week and a hospital appointment next month.

HIMSELF 10:58 Where are the garage keys? I can’t seem to find them. Also where exactly is yesterday’s mail. BTW (Bear) got some mail here.

ME 11:06 (Bear’s) mail is from Jive. Yesterday’s mail is in the black bag with the rest of the mail. I have the garage keys. Will get them back to you when I can.

HIMSELF 11:08 Which black bag? There are a few here.

ME 11:09 The one behind the front door full of letters.

HIMSELF 11:11 The one you overfilled and split when I tried to pick it up. Nice to know it goes in the bin when I’m waiting for something.

ME 12:22 It was in a bag so it wouldn’t be all over the floor. I have done my best to treat your things with respect and I have realised now that your stuff has always meant more to you than I ever have. It hurts a lot knowing that.

HIMSELF12:27 Well I’m working my way through the bag shredding everything that has an address on it. I was only waiting for a letter with the concert tickets in it, remember I asked if you wanted one but you were going to be in Wales. Now I think about all this it seems you’ve planned this for a while as all you’ve taken wouldn’t have fitted in your sister’s car.

ME 12:42 I didn’t plan yesterday in advance. I didn’t want to leave my home but I was scared that you would be violent again. How hard is it for you to accept that you made me leave yesterday with just my clothes and my special bits and pieces? All packed in a hurry, not planned at all.

HIMSELF 12:59 Well that’s your perception of what you thought. Thinking of changing the locks seeing as you’ve walked out. I now don’t want people I don’t know being in the house without me being there now. Not after feeling violated by your friend (Bear). And no I didn’t have violent feelings, just annoyed ones and was going to discuss it when I got home last night. But that’s up to you. You’ve made your bed, you can now sort the mess out. After I finish tidying up I’m going to start decorating and I had planned it from Monday. Was going to talk to you about it but don’t need to now. Well gives my week off more interest now with no worries. I might still be married but can now choose my own colours and not worry.

ME 18:04 It says a lot when you only take an interest in the house and décor as soon as I am gone. You never talked to me about anything over the past months and years so why the sudden decision to talk and decorate? You feel violated? How do you think I felt when the police were round? Or when I got taken to hospital about my neck? Or when I went to (M’s) covered in bruises? I suppose that’s not as important as your stuff. I still have things in that house so will require access to collect them and would appreciate if everything was as it was left so I don’t have to go searching through the house to make sure I clear everything of mine. I need to get myself settled first though so it’s not going to be immediate.

HIMSELF 18:39 I’m not denying you access, just the courtesy that no strangers go inside. Also that I’m present. You have only really left the big things. The kitchen’s about done other than the odd mixer. You’ve cleared the cabinets and you have my sunglasses and a present from your parents. The bed of course and most of the old sewing room. Anything else I find will put in there.

ME 19:07 I still have a lot of stuff in the kitchen as well as books, films, paperwork, sewing things and other bits and pieces. I would like to sort it amicably, but I might need to bring friends to help move things. I won’t be able to do that if you’re banning people from the house.

HIMSELF 19:19 I never said I was banning them. I just want to be there when they are. And seeing the amount of stuff you shifted already I can’t believe you want to come back ever. Also took more than a quick grab of important things. You carefully wrapped all the glass took just about all the towels emptied your clothes into bags and suitcases cleared your computers away and a lot of cutlery, the duvets and pillows and all the bedding. That isn’t a small amount and is very planned. Well I hope you are happy and know what you are doing. Also other than taking my fags out of the car? Is there anything else I should know about? BTW I would suggest you don’t plan on coming over and staying the night here unless it’s in a hotel.

Names have been removed for obvious reasons, and have been replaced in square brackets. Those are the only changes to the content of the text messages. Since those I have heard nothing from him other than what other people have said. He phoned A, H and M looking for a mailing address to forward any letters to. I sent a text telling him to forward any mail to M, that he could get her address from her on MSN and I added that I didn’t want to speak to him while he was perpetuating the lie that he didn’t know why I’d left or that I’d run off with another man. I also e-mailed his friend and told her why I’d left, because I knew he wouldn’t have told her the truth, since she recently got divorced because of domestic violence. I’m not sure if she believed me, but I hope this will assure her that I have told the truth.

I left on the Wednesday. I told the neighbours why I went, although I don’t know if they believed me or not. I went back on the Friday for my doctor’s appointment, after which I went to the police station. I spoke to someone there about what had gone on because I knew I had to go back and pick up the last of my things, all of the black bags and bits in the garage. I told them what had happened, but made sure they understood that I wasn’t pressing charges at that point, it was just to inform them in case anything kicked off when I went to get my things. At the moment I am under the care of the local Women’s Aid, which I was referred to by the National Domestic Violence Helpline. My friend is looking after me by running me wherever to get to appointments with housing or fetching food and fuel. Other than those excursions, I have been mostly sat in knitting and listening to the radio with occasional visits from my friend and her kids, phone calls from my parents and sister to make sure I’m OK, and Bear has driven all the way here a couple of times just to check on me, because phone calls don’t show expressions, just convey words. He’s worried I might end up with depression over everything that’s gone on and wants me to see a doctor, so that’s another thing on my “to do” list.

Life goes on. I will keep plodding on with things here and hope that I can get my benefits sorted out before the last of my money runs out, and can get a house before this place is sold and has to be vacated. One day I might be able to get back on the net with more frequency and be able to update my blog again. I just wanted to be able to tell my side of things so the people I know and care about who read this know what has happened and why I’ve dropped off the planet again. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything sooner, and I’m sorry this has to be the way you find out about it. Didn’t want to say anything because I was, and still am, scared of what he would do if I told what had happened.

I know some of you may not approve of what has happened, either with the way I’ve hidden what’s happened, or about Bear, but I hope you will at least understand. Bear has been a great comfort to me and understands that I can’t continue what we had in the interim while I am going through all this mess. In the future I hope that things can go back to how they were, when I can allow myself to love and trust again. He’s there for me to talk to whenever I need him though, same as he always has been. We can talk for hours about everything and anything, and that’s what I value about him. I just hope that it will continue and become a great relationship, although I fully understand that it will continue to be an addition to his marriage rather than a replacement. I’ve not run away with Bear. I ran away from himself. All I got from Bear was the confidence to be able to leave a situation that was dangerous and unhealthy.

I miss being able to keep up with those I communicated with through blogs and e-mail. I will miss my friends for a while until I can get my computer back and working and a net connection sorted. Meanwhile I shall write blog entries on my laptop and post them when I can.

Gracey, Sims and Larry, look after yourselves. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.

Love and hugs
Mum
xxx

Dance madness

2007-11-03T14:54:00.000Z

Well, it was competition night last night... What can I say. I bought the first ticket for the comp a couple of months ago. There was no way I was missing out on that. I've missed the Black and White ball and the Dips and Drops workshop recently because of my health. I was determined that nothing was going to stop me going to the competition, short of being dead.

It wasn't even anything serious. It was a "Dance with a stranger" competition, where you get assigned a random partner and have to dance with them while being judged by the panel. I do Modern Jive, also known as LeRoc or Ciroc. It's excellent excersise, and I have to say, after a couple of weeks off, I ache like mad this morning after dancing Thursday night at class, and then practically full time from eight till eleven last night, then some more inbetween the rounds of the competition.

I was fortunate. I got someone I have danced with before in the first round. I'm OK dancing with him, although some people ain't keen because of his style. I like it though, and it only took a couple of seconds to get back into it. We did the first round, and while the freestyle was going on inbetween that and the quarter finals, one of the judges went past me and paused, saying if I got near the front and smiled, I'd do fine. How much of a confidence booster was that? Anyway, I kinda knew before we got to the next round that I'd got through with my partner. Our number got called, and up we went to join the other 26 couples that made it through out of the 40 that started.

Then they decided that we had to swap partners, so they moved all the girls around. I got C, one of the blokes from the Thursday classes. I don't dance with him often, but I know his style. I thought we did really well, although we lost time on the beat just when a couple of judges were watching. We never got through to the semis. Ah well, there's always next year... It was an excellent night anyway, and a couple of people said that we were robbed in the second round. I'll keep practicing.

So... next plan once I stop aching so much is to start tidying the house. My sister has volunteered (stupidly) to come and help, as has one of my mates who's got to be down this way for something in the evening, so Monday could see things getting a bit busy and a lot tidier. If I'm really lucky, I might get the dining room shifted round more how I want it too.

Himself will be at work while the bulk of the shift around is happening. Lucky him...

Oh and Monday nights is dance class at T, so I'm going to see if sis fancies a go. I really hope she does, because it's a great night out and a good laugh with the girls. One of these days I'll get some pics of me in my dance outfits... I made three skirts for dancing, and I love them... Very flarey. One is black with white inserts, one is embroidered black cotton and the other is red with white polka dots all over it. Love wearing them, especially the polka dots. It's so fifties and I have a neck scarf and purse to match. I think I'm getting sent a pic dad took of me wearing it, so I'll see if I can post it another time.

Ho hum... Only another week to go till my injection then a month till the op. I'm counting, I can tell you. I had to sit out of some of Thursday's class because I decided not to take painkillers before going in case I ended up too dizzy to dance. I ended up too sore instead. Didn't make that mistake last night and made sure I took some with as well, just in case. Hopefully this will see an end to my problems at least, and I've had the offer to go and help decorate my mate Z's old house for it to be sold, so I might take her up on that for a week while I'm all hormonal and menopausal after the injection. Might do me some good, and might keep me out from under himself's feet too. Slapping paint on a wall could be good therapy...

Ah well, got to concentrate on this place in the meantime. De-cluttering is going to take time and strong willpower... That's where sis comes in. She's completely ruthless and it's brilliant. It'll be done in no time.

In the meantime, I have to make a start... First port of call I think will be the kitchen, then the spare room, dining room, living room.... and the list goes on. I can see my wardrobe emptying into cases to go in the loft... It's all good though.

Right... S'pose I best get on... Aches and all...

Home again and catching up

2007-10-30T20:58:00.000Z

Haven't really done that much today to be honest. I tidied round the bedroom and started sorting out a few bits and pieces of clothes and suchlike. Also managed to get a couple of loads of washing done and the rest of my time was spent pootling about doing not a lot.

Got in about half six last night and just dumped the bags, so I had to go through them to get stuff I needed and shoved all the dirty in the wash. Tomorrow morning's plan is to get all the clean out of the living room, which is resembling a chinese laundry right now, and get it into some sort of semblance of order before my sis comes to visit. She's only dropping in for the day on her way to SOU, but it will be good to see her for however long. Got a lot to catch up with since we've not had a really good chat for a few months.

Gah... just realised it's halloween tomorrow and I have nothing in. I really ought to get some sweeties for the little bas... erm... darings that will come knocking on my door demanding "trick or treat"... So Americanised. I hate it. I still remember the days of actually doing stuff to get sweeties (that's SWEETIES folks, not candy. Wrong side of the pond here to get all American). Anyone else mourn the days when kids sang a wee song or something to get something, even if it was just an apple? I bet if I was giving out apples tomorrow, there would be disappointed faces. Bah humbug... Might lock myself in my sewing room with my music playing instead...

Ah well, suppose it might be good to make a start on shifting stuff out of the living room. It won't be tidying itself, although how cool would it be if it did? I mean seriously...

Ahhh, pipe dreams of a self-cleaning house... The person who invents one will be a millionaire in 5 seconds flat.

I fell off the planet...

2007-10-28T20:51:00.000Z

Well, I'm back... Sort of. Currently I'm sat in Wales in my friend A's house, chilling out after another day playing housekeeper, cook and companion. Nearly ended up as referee, but decided that it would be a bad idea to get between A and her daughter's bloke.

I've been spending time here for various reasons, but the main one is playing rottweiler to A's shitty builders, solar heating engineers and anyone else that's trying to take advantage of a disabled pensioner who needs work done on her house. I also get to do a lot of cooking... More about that in a minute. It's absolutely peaceful here. At night you can stand out the back and all you can hear is the sound of the wind, the occasional shuffle of one of the sheep in the field and an owl if it's feeling talkative. Bliss.

And the cooking. Where to start? Well, A's mate D has a farm. He keeps sheep. He also has licence to slaughter the sheep and eat them. They're yummy by the way, especially the really cute one I was petting the other week there. She was absolutely scrummy with a bit of rosemary and red wine. Yeah, I know, I'm horrible, but seriously, where do you think your food comes from? I have loads more recipes I want to try, and D has a few more sheep that will be going at some point in the future. I see a great culinary partnership forming here...

Recently D had some bits of cow, so I was trying some burger recipes. They were yum too by the way. I was even there for the butchering of the meat, helping with the mincing, mixing and pressing of the burgers, packing up some of the huge gret big joints of meat that I just wanted to take home and cook. We got a couple of steaks and a joint for roasting. The steaks were HUGE. I kid you not. One rump filled a reasonable sized frying pan... The roast was lovely. It was a really nice piece of meat, juicy, tender and above all, fresh and not bought out of any supermarket. I watched it being hacked off the carcass. Smashing stuff. I'm going to be back the next time there's meat on offer, recipe book and pen in hand, ideas forming on what to cook next.

Home again soon though, and feeling more relaxed after a grand week away. Even my health problems have been a lot less annoying, although I still can't wait for the day I go into hospital to get them hopefully sorted properly. My mate M is about to have the full hysterectomy after having the ablation a couple of years back, so I know what to expect from the ablation. I'm hoping that I'll be able to come here while I'm in the middle of the injection cycle to keep out from under himself's feet. I know for a fact that there will probably be friction with the pair of us in the house while I'm all menopausal. There's a laugh I could well do without. At least here I can wander off up the field or nip off down the beach to work off any mood swings. Either that or D can put me in the dairy with the mincer and a huge pile of meat. That ain't half theraputic...

Lots to do next week. Really need to do some of my sewing to be honest, plus I could seriously do with having a sort out of stuff at home. Living here for a week, with A has made me realise that I have a lot of stuff and I really need to organise it. She has some lovely bits and pieces all over the place, but it's not cluttered. I might end up puting some stuff away, just so there's less stuff all over the place like it is at the moment. This house is really neat and tidy, and I'm a bit naffed of with living with too much stuff all over the place. Time for an organise.

I did mention before that I might go a bit Stepford, but hadn't actually done it. I think it's about time really...

So much to do and only a few weeks left till the hospital. I think I'd prefer to have a tidy house to shuffle around in after the op really, plus I need to be a bit ruthless with the junk that I've been collecting over the years. I think the garage might be getting a bit of a shock shortly...

Anyway... It's nearly bedtime. Shocking I know, but the fresh air really does me in here. Bed before midnight is definitely on the cards tonight. It helps that I'm almost constantly busy here too with one thing or another, helping move furniture, cooking, chasing after dog, fixing stuff and generally keeping A company. Might be back here soon. It's really nice being in the peace and quiet, although I've been missing out on the dancing. Mind you, I've not really been fit and well enough to dance, since the tablets the doc gave me worked for all of ten days before my little period problem decided to revisit with a vengeance and really go to town on me.

Nuts to it. I'm not going to let it beat me. I've had a couple of days where I've been really down about it, but I can't let it rule my life. Time to move on and just play the waiting game till I can get it all sorted with any luck. If it works, I'm going to rename the surgeon to God...

Now time to go fall off the planet again, at least for a couple of days while I get home and start my organising. Sleep beckons...

Update

2007-10-02T10:06:00.000+01:00

Well, I haven't posted in a while, so what's been doing since then... Let me think...

Himself and I had a bit of a row following the last post (predictable, since I was still majorly frustrated after writing it) but the end result seems to have settled a lot of dust. I said some things, he said some things, we yelled at each other, nothing got really resolved (normal) but the air got cleared.

I finished work. The last week of getting up at half seven in the morning I was mildly euphoric, which spilled into the home life. A good thing, because I've been laughing and joking with himself lately rather than biting his head off. Well, that proves one thing: My work was a major factor in the whole disgruntled me thing. Now I'm an unemployed bum (please read "Self employed and considering a career in Stepford Wife" here) and so far enjoying it.

A couple of weekends ago we had the parents over. My parents that is... The ones that live miles away. Dad drove down (mum can't drive now, since she's half-blind) and they arrived four hours earlier than planned. I hadn't finished the mad rush tidy job, but meh... They didn't mind too much. The living room was at least tidy and they spent some time in the garden. On the Sunday, the three of us went to Southampton to meet up with my sis and we had lunch.

Not just lunch...

We had lunch on the QE2. Impressed? I was... The ship is gorgeous. I wished that I'd been going away on the next cruise. I still do. Trans-Atlantic to Quebec, then Halifax, Boston, New York, St. Johns, then back to Southampton. My parents are currently living it up on the other side of the Atlantic with my sister, living in luxury on board one of the last "proper" cruise liners left.

Anyway... I shall put my jealousy back in its box...

On Friday I had my hospital appointment with the gynae people. I'm sure I blogged that I was to be allowed a hysterectomy before one of the surgeon's lackeys threw my world into disarray with the mention of IVF, and basically caused a load of mess with my head and my relationship with himself. The surgeon said that I had never been offered it and that it would be dangerous and stupid to consider it. He needs a word with his team. Anyway... I'm not getting one of them. I'm getting Endometrial Ablation instead, which apparently should solve my problems. I say "should" but I know what my body can be like sometimes. Awkward thing that it is.

So... All sounding peachy so far? HA! Right. It's not that straightforward.

I have to have an injection a month before the op. Basically it will shut down my ovaries, which will mean I'll get menopausal symptoms. You know, hot flushes, night sweats, the whole nine yards, as well as the off hormonal outbursts.

We know it's coming. I'm going to do my best to keep it all in check, because otherwise I will end up taking it all out on himself, which isn't fair. However, we both know what's coming, so we might have a chance of getting through the worst of it without throwing things and yelling at each other. I'm going to try and take out my energy on housework instead of himself.

Talking of housework, I mentioned the Stepford Wife thing. I decided it would possibly be best if I didn't try to find another job straight away. It would be a bit unfair to prospective employers to take me on then have me off with hospital visits and so on, so I'm going to remain unemployed for the time being. Well, technically unemployed as I shall be concentrating on sewing. I have a dress to make for a friend as well as a dance dress to make for C's competition in March. Plenty of time for me to get practice in with new material and new techniques. I have the pattern and material already for both projects, so that's all sorted. I also bought a load of wool for knitting baby blankies, which is my staple for the evenings. I'm also going to be doing the Stepford thing...

Over the next few weeks I plan to gut, clean, tidy, rearrange and generally get this house into something approaching neat and homely. That might also include a lick of paint here and there, but I'm sure I can manage.

First thing to do is the kitchen. I started cleaning it, but got distracted by Season 2 DVD box set of House. I've finished that, so I can get the radio out, and get on with turning my kitchen into an ultra clean, neat, tidy, everything where it should be space. Now I have my shelves, that will be easier to accomplish. After that it will be a blitz on the bathroom, and then the living room. Dining room will follow that (which will help with the kitchen stuff because I want to move plates into the sideboard) and then the bedrooms. Well, one bedroom, one computer room and one sewing room.

So... Onward and upwards. I'm hoping that the sewing gig can take over as my source of income, as it's something I enjoy doing. I'm probably not going to make a huge amount of cash out of it, but it will hopefully keep me ticking over with enough there to have fun as well. Plus it means I can be home doing the housework, washing, cooking, cleaning and generally keeping the place in the state I am about to get it to.

Right... Time to go put on some scaggy cleaning clothes and get on with the kitchen. Wish me luck...

Stuff.

2007-09-14T22:08:00.000+01:00

Today I went to my first Civil Partnership ceremony. My Sister-in-Law and her other half finally got round to getting "hitched". It was a really lovely day spent with the in-laws and himself, although himself was his usual for the bulk of the time, i.e. no hand-holding, no talking, no acting like a couple... He did have a few occasional slips into the "normal couple" thing of noticing I was there, which rather surprised me, since I'm a bit too used to the non-contact sport that the marriage is.

People seem hell-bent on trying to "fix" me and my train-wreck of a marriage, but it's something I've grown accustomed to. "You shouldn't have to" they say, but my response is that I'm happy... Well, fairly happy anyway. While he doesn't do romance in any big way, it's something I've lived with for a while now, and I'm used to it. We don't do things as a couple, with the exception of Beltring, but hell, even that's more a case of being in the same location, sleeping in the same tent (most of the time) and generally the rest of the time is spent doing our own thing.

Look at it another way for a second. Consider this: I can go out and do my own thing. I can go to the dancing any night I please. I can drop off the planet and go see friends of a weekend with no major planning around spending quality time with himself. I can sit in front of my computer, sewing machine or television with no guilty feelings about not being sat with him, talking to him, doing things with him. He's out at work a lot. He's tired a lot. Plus I try not to plan things when he's home so at least we are in the same location at the same time.

I described it to someone the other day as being like having another cat in the house. I wouldn't part with my cats, despite the fact that they hardly notice I'm here, with the exception of feeding time, they don't demand that I not go out because they're home, they don't mind if I spend hours in my sewing room... Himself is the same, except he's more adept at feeding himself. I don't get "looks" when I go out. Don't get comments about spending time with my friends. I don't have to explain where I'm going, who I'll be with, what we'll be doing. He knows I like spending time with friends to keep myself sane, because it can get a bit lonely sitting here night after night or over weekends while he's out at work.

So tell me where the problem is? I can't actually see one from this angle.

Actually, I lie. There is one thing I have a problem with. The same as I like spending some time with my cats, I would like to spend some time with himself. He's been working a lot lately, so our paths haven't really crossed that much. It would be nice to have some time to ourselves, maybe go out for an evening, or go somewhere and just have a nice time in each other's company. He has a weekend off coming up soon...

Himself however is planning that time to go and see one of his friends. He's arranged to go over, go out, have some fun, set the world to rights, have a laugh... Should I be upset by that? I am, for the record. He knows why. So should the other person, although I'm not going to interfere in a friendship. Especially not that one, because frankly, it's not worth all the hassle it causes on any side of things. I say things out of turn about my thoughts on the subject and it causes silence (more than usual) and resentment on his part. Then I get comments from other quarters. Then it all gets messy from there on in.

I try to encourage him to socialise with my friends. My friends are our friends. We have been invited to a barbecue at one of the girls I go dancing with's house. He's working late shift, but she's said to him to come over after work, since the party will be a late one. I ask him to drop me at the dancing on a Thursday if he's home. I know he won't start dancing any time soon, and I'm not really pressing the issue, except in fun, but it means he gets to meet my friends, to socialise with the people I spend time with on a regular basis.

The same doesn't apply both ways.

His friends are exclusive to him. I am not allowed to intrude on the friendship. This is becoming more obvious as time passes. I've had the comment dropped into conversation about himself being put out because his weekend plans to go somewhere were put off because of something happening with his friend. This was said on the Thursday of the weekend he was apparently supposed to be going out on the Saturday with his friend and staying over. Obviously planned beforehand, but not mentioned till that point. He said it was, but I think I would have noticed, given my feelings on the subject.

I don't work weekends. I'm usually home when he is. If I'm going to go away for the weekend, it's normally when he's working (usually nights) and I'll mention it in advance. I usually ask if it's OK for me to disappear to see my mates for the weekend before making firm plans to do so. I don't make plans, sort it all out then tell him about it just before it happens, unless it's been a spur-of-the-moment thing, and that's usually going over to Wales to see M&M and my godchildren. If there's a plan to go see them and his roster changes, I've asked him to come with me, or I've cancelled unless he insists I go. Simple as that really.

The weekend he is planning on setting the world to rights and being a human being rather than a work-robot happens to be the weekend my parents are coming here, passing through on their way to go on a cruise.

Now can you see my real problem with this arrangement?

He's also planning on doing some electrical work for a friend of his friend.

I had to ask one of our friends to put shelves up in the kitchen for me, because I couldn't see him getting them done any time this side of the next ice age.

Can you see my other problem?

I'll explain: I ask till I'm blue in the face then get someone else to do whatever it is that I need done and can't do myself. Someone else asks, and himself is immediately working out when he can do it, how long it will take, setting a date to go do whatever it is... He's worked out that he can go over, go out on the Friday night, have fun, enjoy himself, chat, set the world to rights, solve all his friend's problems, be there as a sounding board for their problems, start sorting out the work needing done on the Saturday, come back here on the Saturday evening, probably spend some quality time with his computer while I'm downstairs with the parents, then once they're out the way on the Sunday, it's back to helping out a friend of a friend.

I'm not saying not to do it. It's all arranged, and I'm not asking him to break an arrangement he's made. I'm not telling him he's not allowed to do it. I'm saying he should start looking a little closer to home for someone who needs that shoulder to lean on, to talk to about the future which is as yet uncertain, to have a good bitch about the world in general, to talk over the fears and doubts about a major op... To be the friend he signed up to be just over 6 years ago.

I was reminded of that day today. I nearly cried in the register office, simply because I knew that my sister in law was getting a better deal than the one I signed up to. They probably don't live in a perfect relationship, but it's definitely not the "train-wreck" I describe mine as.

Other people look in and see snippets of our life. Some hear my side of things, in which I am as fair as I can be. I point out to those that comment that himself works a lot. We don't get a lot of time to spend together and he's usually pretty tired. Anyone would be after working for six straight weeks with an average of 50 to 60 hours in every week. I defend what he does up to a point. Other people see his side of things. I don't know what he tells them, but while I refer to himself as "himself", I am referred to as "she who must be obeyed". "Himself" is a very Scottish colloqual way of talking about your other half, and it's a nice reference. It goes along with other similar greetings like "How's yourself?" or "How's himself?" A much easier way of talking about someone if you are politely refraining from mentioning a name in a blog, and a lot more personal, to me at least, than just an initial, as well as being a normal thing to say for me, being Scottish as I am. "SWMBO" feels a lot more derogatory, don't you think? Plus I can't remember the last time I gave any orders to himself about anything. I've asked him to do stuff, suggested that he could perhaps do something houseworkish when he says he's got nothing to do, but I don't order him to do anything. I don't give him a list of things to be done and a deadline in which to do them.

Perhaps I should...

Perhaps not. Himself already acts like I do that anyway if I mention doing anything. I'll mostly just do it myself now instead of asking and waiting for things to be done.

Perhaps I could ask his friend to ask him to do stuff. I might get it done then. Perhaps not, since I'm persona non grata with said friend, or at least that's how it feels. My friends make the effort to talk to him, have a laugh, a bit of friendly banter, invite him to parties. His friend doesn't even speak to me on any level, and I now seem excluded from their circle of friends while himself is still the best friend. I talk to the other halves of my friends when and if I meet them. If I was throwing a party and inviting my friends, it would be as a couple, not just the immediate friends. If I was planning a night out with said friends, I would make sure their other half didn't mind (not that I've done that in a while anyway, since the friends I seem to spend time with are either single or the nights out are at the dancing which is all pre-arranged anyway). Perhaps I was just brought up differently to other people, and consideration for others is a thing of the past.

Question: Why should I have to sit writing this in a blog for the message to get through to people (yet again) when I've already explained a situation more than once?

You know, sometimes I do feel like I'm just the lodger/maid/his mother, but I just sigh, get on with it, and remember that I signed up to be his wife. I'll keep doing what I'm doing, living like this, being pitied by people for a relationship they see as "unhealthy", ignored by others because it suits them to do so, and I will continue to defend my right to live like this, living in a relationship that I chose. I signed up for it. I may not have known what was coming, but back then, I didn't care. I was marrying the man I loved, and still love, despite all the grumblings and complaints. Read back and you'll see that it's not all complaints and there's a lot of laughs thrown in as well as positive stuff going on. Today just made me jealous in a way, but I won't give up, give in or get out. This is it. This is my marriage. In sickness and in health , for richer, for poorer, till death do we part.

I blinked... What happened?

2007-09-09T22:15:00.000+01:00

Well, I blinked and suddenly, as I opened my eyes, the world was upside down.

What happened? Oh, just work calling me in and telling me that my contract that's due to end on the 28th September will not be renewed.

I smiled. I joked. I laughed about it. I got home and started immediately looking for another job. Then the brain kicked in.

"Hold on" it said, "Why are you rushing into another job? Take some time. Chill out. Remember you have an upcoming hospital appointment and possibly 6 weeks off post op to contend with."

I stopped and listened. I thought about it. My brain was talking a great deal of sense, and so I've decided to follow the advice. For two weeks after I leave the company I'm with, I shall go off and see people, do things, get out and visit those that I haven't seen for a while and generally just chill out and take some time to myself. I've not done that for a while. Not really. I've always had work in the back of my mind, or known that I'm along for the ride on trips out, or known that if I go off somewhere it's to problem solve, be there for someone else, or do something for someone else. Trips to S are to buy material to make dresses for other people and rarely for things for myself these days.

Mind you, now being a dance fanatic means I can possibly get in on the niche market of making competition dresses for some of the girls I dance with, and doing other general sewing work along with it. Something I'd enjoy, as I don't have the figure or the talent for the dance competition, slinky lycra look, but one girl at dancing sure as hell does.

I'm itching to create something fabulous, and have an idea that I will explore as my experience gets input. In the meantime, it's basics of sewing with lycra, making leotard dresses and learning beadwork, applique and other interesting techniques that are going to have me cursing till I master them.

This getting freed from a job that was frankly taking up too much of my creative thought processes is a gift. They say never look a gift horse in the mouth, but I will however check for Greek soldiers elsewhere in it's anatomy

Jumbled thoughts

2007-09-01T14:51:00.000+01:00

I can't settle enough to finish the dress I've been making, so I thought I'd come here and blog, just to gt rid of someof the clutter in my mind. It always seems to sort my head out when I write, so here goes...

It's been a lousy week really. It had its moments, but they passed swiftly and were overwhelmed by other things. Monday was interesting, because I went out with a friend S and his dog. We took a wander down by the river, then S, in his infinite wisdom, decided we were going to the beach, so off we went in his Landrover. We got most of the way there when his gears decided they weren't working. Fortunately there was a spot to pull into, which we did, and then had to strip out the top of a gearbox. Fun when I look back on it, but it was a warm, sunny day and we didn't have anything to eat or drink with us. We got it mostly put back together again, then decided to take the dog for another hike round the forrest park we were stopped on the edge of. After we got back from that, we finished puting the car back together, went for a very nice dinner, and by the time I got home, it was gone ten at night. Himself was predictably asleep by the time I got in the door. He's been on earlies this week, so in bed at a sensible hour most nights.

Tuesday I went to work. Wasn't feeling too great and by the time I got home, I was feeling decidedly icky, so no dancing for me. I spent the evening on the sofa watching nothing much really. Wednesday was OK, although still not feeling too great. Got home from work and did a fitting of the dress, which (shock, horror) fitted just fine. No alterations needed, so I could just sew the skirt straight onto the bodice, which I did. By the time that was done, I still wasn't feeling too great and the next job would have been puting the zip in. I decided to leave that till another time. Thursday was OK, although still feeling grotty. Went dancing, but didn't really make too much of an effort to get up and dance much in the freestyle bit. Got home and felt very tired, so went almost straight to bed. Unheard of for me really.

Yesterday I dragged myself out of bed feeling like hell. I got ready for work, thought about breakfast, considered the possibility of throwing it up again and decided to pass. Was on the brink of leaving for work when I decided it would be a very bad idea, and went and lay on the sofa wrapped in a duvet, clutching my hot water bottle. I was feeling a bit more human by the afternoon, so put the zip in the dress. It was easier than expected, although not quite a perfect job. It's a good job nonetheless, just definitely not a manufactured perfection. Is it just me, or does everyone else like hand-made things to look hand-made, with effort and not just manufactured as if it was shop bought? Didn't manage to do the hand-stitching or hemming though. Those are on the list for this afternoon/evening.

This morning I was having real trouble trying to get out of bed. Had to go catch a train to get a bulb for the sewing machine and a zip for a dress I will be mending for a friend from dancing. Of course, while I was in the material shop I had to buy some more material. Well, you have to really... I have another dance skirt in the planning stages in my head. Something a bit more flash than my last couple and all my own design. I just need to have the energy to get on, finish the dress, then make the skirt, and hopefully have it done by Thursday's dance class.

Today was going well. I got what I needed, bought what I wanted, then browsed in Markies food hall and picked up some bits and pieces for a late lunch with himself. I told him about said late lunch, thinking he might be pleased that I'm making some sort of effort. He seemed a bit nonplussed by the whole thing, and totally non-committal about whether he wanted fed or not when he gets home. I was sorely tempted just to throw the whole lot in the bin because I was just that disheartened by the reaction.

What is it I need to do to get an ounce of enthusiasm out of him?

I will say this though: He managed to take note of something I said recently. Sometimes I just need a hug. Sometimes a hug is all that's neccessary. A little understanding comfort rather than a fix or solution. I'm not expecting himself to have the answers to all of my problems, but it's nice to know that he's there and paying attention.

Let's get this straight though. Understanding hugs are not enthusiasm. It's a comfort thing. Enthusiasm would be asking questions about my dancing or dressmaking that require detailed responses with thought behind them, rather than "How's it going?" or "How was the dancing last night?" or even "How was your day?" which only really a require a "fine" answer for him to be satisfied. I get the feeling when he asks, it's out of duty rather than a quest to know what I've been sewing or if it's been difficult, easy, complicated, enjoyable, frustrating... The same with the dancing. I doubt he wants to know what moves I've learned, whether I've been asked to go to some of the Friday/Saturday night dances in N or M, or whether my dance friends have decreed that I must not cycle to the dancing at night because it's dark coming home through an estate that, let's face it, is a bit rough, although I've never had any bother at all.

Ah well... I need to get a hem taken up, a collar stitched down, bodice lining stitched in and an underskirt rehemmed to the right length as well as attaching a ribbon to the waistband. Got to have it all done by Wednesday too, so I have today, tomorrow and Monday to get it completed, although I really want to be making a skirt by tomorrow afternoon... Suppose I better get cracking really. I think I'm in the right frame of mind now...

Bah humbug

2007-08-26T15:27:00.000+01:00

I knew there was a reason I didn't make adult-sized stuff. Now I remember. It's a pain in the ass.

I've been trying to make a dress for a girl at work. I'm currently having a break before I do something silly to it. Two attempts so far to stitch a piece that's about two inches long, and as I unpicked it for the second time, I just got so annoyed. Why do the pattern makers make things damn near impossible to stitch without catching other bits of material or going right off the stitching line? It's a nightmare. It was going so well up to that point as well, and now I'm in no mood to sew, let alone do anything else.

Too many late nights have finally caught up with me I think, on the weekend when I have too much to do and not enough time to do it in. I even managed eight hours sleep last night, which was probably the worst thing for me to do at this point. After doing fine on about 6 hours max for the last few weeks, the lay-in of an extra two hours has put me right out.

Plus the lack of caffiene.

I really should think about mainlining espressos. Failing that I shall go and make myself a really strong cup of coffee and sit and glare at my sewing machine over the rim of the cup. I normally drink diet pepsi. I used to drink coke, but switched to diet to lessen the sugar intake. Unfortunately, I think diet coke tastes disgusting. All I can taste is the sweetner and nothing else, so I drink diet pepsi instead, because at least, to me, that has a flavour that isn't just pure aspartame. Well, I would drink it if I had any. I don't. Himself, who "doesn't like" it, still seems to manage to force it down his neck, leaving me pepsi-less. We do have diet coke in the house, which is what he drinks, but I'm damned if I'm going near it. I may be suffering from a lack of caffiene, but I'd rather have the headaches and grumpiness than the evil taste of that in my mouth.

So today I am definitely grrrr about sewing and grrr about lack of caffiene. Time to go put the kettle on and drink hot drinks on a hot day and then get on with trying to get this bloody dress made. It's a Vogue, one of the Vintage patterns. All I can say is that ladies who made those dresses back when they were new either had a lot more patience or skill than me. Or were masochists. I'm going with that option.

Right, time to go and stab pins into some material with all the venom I can muster, and then calmly give up and hand stitch the bloody thing instead...

That was then...

2007-08-17T17:55:00.000+01:00

This is now...

What a week it's been. Work has been slow. Days pass like racing snails. The evenings on the other hand, the time I have to myself, just seems to disappear.

What have I done this week... Hmmm

Last night I was out all evening. First at fat club (nearly a stone gone so far and working on it, but not really very good at sticking to the eating plan...) then out at the dancing.

For those who were paying attention, I decided to go learn to jive. So I went... I've been going for almost two months, with a break while I was off at Beltring. I started just going on a Thursday, then decided that going on a Tuesday as well might be a good idea. I can't drive, so kept having to scrounge lifts from people. I gave that up as a bad idea this week, after spending too much on taxis when lifts dropped out. Now I cycle.

So... fifteen minutes of cycling followed by dancing from eight till eleven, then another 15 minute cycle back home again. If I'm not fit (and thinner) by the end of this, I'm going to cuss.

I really need to get on and do some sewing, but I find myself sat in front of the computer yet again writing this stuff. I have a dress to make for a girl at work, as well as another dress to make for a friend. After that I have some baby bits to do before I can even think of getting on and making myself another skirt for my dancing. Which is a bit of a sod by the way, because the lovely skirt I made for dancing just before I went away no longer fits me. Well, it does, just, as long as I don't mind a skirt that sits on my hips.

Ah well, I've persuaded a friend to take up jiving too, so that at least I will have one person to dance with come next year's Beltring. Maybe I can enlist a few more to the cause before then... We shall see...

Lost...

2007-08-06T20:10:00.000+01:00

I feel lost. Mixed emotionally. Who am I? I don't know. Does anyone? I wonder. Those that know me best might say yes. I wish they would tell me.

Who am I? What is my favourite colour? What do I like to eat? Am I loner or a socialite? What music do I like? What do I turn off when it comes on the radio? What car do I want to own? What would my ideal job be? Who is my ideal man? Do I want one? Which do I prefer? Long walks with someone or sitting on my own with my own thoughts? Am I needed? Wanted? What makes me smile? Laugh? Frown? Cry? Italian or Chinese? Sun or rain? Hot or cold? Diamonds or practical? which would I choose? What makes me tick? What's my favourite ice cream? Where would I love to be right now?

I'm looking for something. There's part of me missing. There's an empty space needing filled. A void that won't go away. I know what it is, but don't know where or how to find it. I look, but don't find. I search fruitlessly. I try to solve the mystery of making myself a whole, and end up emptier than before.

I feel guilt. I didn't write. I didn't call. I didn't make contact. I called too much. I intruded where I shouldn't have gone. I don't want to hurt. Don't want to hurt others. I said too much. I didn't speak enough.

Conflict. It's in my head. What to do? What not to do? Why do it if I can avoid it? Can I avoid it? Would things be better if I ignored it or met it head on? What would I say? Where would it lead? How would it end? Badly? Would things improve? What if they don't? Do I even want to try? Will anything ever be different? Has anything changed when I've said things in the past?

I want to talk to someone, but who? Other people have their own problems. They don't need mine as well. Some say they do, but suddenly are busy, tired, whatever.

I'm lost. No map, no compass, no magnetic north to guide myself by. I stumble on day after day wondering where I am, what I'm doing, why I did what I did, why I torture myself daily with the whole pantomime of life. It's not me. Really it isn't.

If there's an answer to all my questions above, if you know who I am, please let me know. Perhaps knowing that will let me know where to find the part of me that's missing.

2007 Back from the wars Part 1

2007-07-24T23:08:00.000+01:00

I know... Very lazy, but I'm knackered... Here's a mail I sent my sister about the return trip from this year's War and Peace show...

Helloooooooooo

Good to hear from you. Glad you're enjoying so far and I hope dinner with G went well.

I've not long been on the phone to mum and she said I had to relate the tales of fun on the holiday...

Well... where to start...

Going to Kent was fun... All the rad seals on the car blew and it overheated. We got low-loadered from somewhere near the M25 to Beltring. We had minimal kit because everything else was in the trailer or the Commer (my truck, now christened Isobel) both still either in XXXXX or at C's.

Himself went and got the trailer, Grumpy and J went and loaded all the rest into Grumpy's motor and got it all down. I bought the boys beer for helping out.

Then... Himself wanted to finish the wiring on the lorry, so he and Chief went over to C's. As they were about 2 miles from their house, the torsion bar bolt on the car snapped. The car got low-loadered back with Chief and Himself stayed to finish the lorry. Lorry turned up somewhere round 1am. Himself fixed the car the next day and my mate went hunting for spark plugs for Izzy as she was only running on 4 of her 6 cyllinders. Himself was busy one day, so I changed the plugs and did the points. How cool am I? I was there, bum hanging out the engine bay of a big lorry and J and R reckoned there was a multiple car pile up on that corner because of it... har har... plus I got my bum slapped by any of our lads that wandered past... And photographed...

Once I got all that done... I drove my lorry!!! I took it round the field a couple of times. She was rough as old boots because of holes in the exhaust system, so L and I filled the holes with exhaust putty and she was much better after that...

Anyway, good weeks had by all. I'll relate all those tales another time. I have to get to the really funny bit. Mum was in stitches.

We got everything packed and were folding the last of the canvas as the rain started yesterday. Everything loaded, we jumped in, Himself pressed the starter. Nothing. Dead as doornails (did I forget to mention that she won't charge batteries, although it's an improvement on her boiling the bloody things...) so we changed the battery... Nothing. Another change... Nothing... Another change (running out of batteries here...) nothing for a minute then she coughed into life. M had just attached the tow rope to the front to tow-start her too. He and I had a conversation about how we should have put the spare wheel into her wheel carrier too, but the spares were in the back keeping the tables off the floor with canvas over the top because the canvas backing is doing a pretty good impression of a sieve... The wipers are a hand cranked thing and only on one side. Oh and she leaks round the windscreen so it rains on the inside too...

Anyway, off we set, not knowing what roads were open anywhere, dodging the drips from the inside of the screen. We took the scenic route through East Grinstead. Going through there, Izzy backfired (running rich. The carb is shot. Need a new one of them) and blew all the exhaust putty out. Loud isn't the word, but anyway, nothing major, so we carried on up to a set of traffic lights. A BMW cut inbetween us and T who was in front in D's Commer. Bad move. The lights changed, Himself put his foot on the brake... Nothing happened. He pressed harder and they worked. The Beemer driver must have discovered that adrenaline is brown as all he could probably see in his rearview was numberplate.

We mooched on, following M in the mine truck and T in the other Commer. Managed to pick up quite a few cars and a couple of lorries in between us on the way, so the other two couldn't really see if we were behind. We were half way up a hill, when BANG!!! The rear inside tyre blew out. Himself fought with her, pulled her into the side, sat for a few seconds to stop shaking, then turned the engine off... He got out to investigate the damage. The tyre blew from tread to rim, about 18 inches to 2 feet round the rim, then back out to the tread again. Nice. We sat for a moment and thought about it. We had the spares (under the tables and benches though) we had a jack (somewhere in the back) a couple of axle stands (also in the back) a plate to jack on to stop it sinking in the ground... But the tyre iron was in the mine truck, receeding into the distance. He took a wander up the road a wee bit and back (in the pouring rain) sat for a bit, did some crosswords, realised that they hadn't noticed when they lost us and started making phone calls. An hour and a half after the tyre blew, cold, wet, dodging the drips on the inside of the cab later he decided to take a wander further up to see what was there. A garage. Spot on. We decided to limp to the garage. He got in. Hit the starter...

Nothing. Battery was dead as doornails. If we'd kept going after the blow-out, we'd have made it. Ah well...

We got out, I got waterproofs on (he was already in his, but still soaked through by this point) and wandered to the garage to A) get something hot to drink B) get something to eat, C) go to the loo and most importanly D) find out exactly where the hell we were. Got coffee, got sarnies, did a loo run, phoned C and told him where we were and M and T headed out to us in the car with relevant bits. We left Beltring at half three, blew out at half four and they arrived around 7. Tyre was duly changed (some wee blokey that lived nearby came out and offered help, loaned tools and said he'd been to beltring and had left his Landrover with the marshalls in America's field, lovely people, Us by the way... He laughed) and that was all done by quarter past eight. New battery and off she went. I was in the car, T went with Himself in the Commer, because if there's something he doesn't know about them, it's really nothing of any use.

She was backfiring well on the downhills (running rich again) and we diagnosed an earth fault in the wiring... Every time she backfired, all the lights went out! They came back on again though, so it was ok...

Anyway, ten miles from C's, the battery died again. This was about half ten at night. We went and fetched one of the batteries off the mine truck and came back, got her going again... Two miles from C's... She ran out of fuel... We had jerry cans in the back... Empty... Had to try and find a garage at gone eleven at night. Fun.

We shoved 20 quid's worth in there and limped into C's, parked up, cold, wet, cheesed off, but still laughing, because there was nothing else to do... He went to fetch the car which was parked up the drive a bit...

The bloody thing wouldn't start! Took four attempts to get it going, but it went. We threw all the bags we could think of and could find in the dark, wet, under canvas and tarps into the car, had a cuppa and came home. Got in around quarter past one after remembering about half an hour from C's that I'd left the toilet bag in the truck... Had a shower (fortunately I took all new to Beltring and had some half-bottles of shampoo and things here, although I had to go buy a new toothbrush today) Had a shower and fell into bed around quarter past two in the morning.

Needless to say I overslept and didn't get to work today...

Ah well, I got the washing done (three of the million loads at least) and I'm about to go fall into bed again and hope that I don't sleep through the alarm again tomorrow. Think I'll set my phone alarms as well, just in case. They're annoying enough to wake the dead...

I tell you... You just couldn't make this stuff up. Seriously. Mum was killing herself laughing at every new misfortune I said I'd copy dad into the mail so he could read all about it, because you know mum... She'll forget half of it (Hi mum!)

Anyway, my bed wants me. I'm still totally knackered! I need a holiday to get over the holiday!

Anyway, will speak soon and tell you the rest. Hope you're enjoying the new ship and being the Boss!

Love

Me
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Why?

2007-07-01T02:20:00.000+01:00

Why did I decide to give up smoking? Why did I decide to go on a diet? Why did I even bother thinking of having kids? Why didn't I just tell the gynae people to get on and take it all out since I have no use for it? Why do I get lectured about buying biscuits as he's given up sugar while he can smoke in the house and order pizza and ask if I want anything while he's ordering? Why am I always the one in the wrong?

I'm wrong for having hobbies. I'm wrong for using a room he wasn't using and filled up with crap that never got used. I'm wrong for asking him to look for something my sister needs. I'm wrong for getting annoyed that I did most of the looking. I'm wrong. Permanently.

I made the decision. I am NOT having children with that man. He's had four months to answer a simple question. Does he want kids. Obviously not then.

He comes in the house after work. He comes upstairs. He turns his computer on. He goes to the loo. He then sits in front of his computer until it's time to fetch his dinner from the delivery boy, then sits in front of his computer till it's time to go to bed. He gets up in the morning. He turns his computer on. He goes to the loo. He then sits in front of his computer until it is time to go to work.

He then wonders why I get annoyed after being told I was spending too much time on my computer. So I stopped. So I sat downstairs on my own. So I took up sewing and knitting. So I took up jive dancing. So all of that is wrong too.

I don't have anyone to share my evenings with, even when he's not working, so why shouldn't I take up hobbies? Oh no. I'm not allowed to do anything other than sit here staring at the wall (because I'm not allowed to use my computer or look at his) because I might be enjoying myself.

*gasp*

That will never do. Remind me tomorrow to go pawn my life, as I have no use for it and may as well get the cash and go spend it on a pack of cigarettes and a pizza.

Sad.

2007-06-09T11:21:00.000+01:00

My cousin just had a wee baby girl. My sister passed on the pics of her, and she is lovely.

I cried, because I know deep down that the picture of the happy, smiling, tired mum with new baby cradled in her arms will never be me.

Stopped Procrastinating

2007-05-28T21:13:00.000+01:00

And finally finished the bits I've been making for my cousin. She is due her first baby this week, and I have completed a blankie, a duck and a whale for said small thing. Now all I have to do is get them wrapped and put in the post. That's a job for tomorrow I think, since I will need to go to the post office to get something to put it all in.

I still have an impressive list of things that I need to do. I have a cloak to make still, and a corset to take in, then there's a jacket needing buttons moved, patches sewn on and cuffs turned up. I have a leather corset to mend as well while I'm at it, and have just been asked to mend a 14th century jerkin and come up with a draught excluder for a tent of the same era. I'm not short of a few jobs to keep me occupied as you can see.

Himself on the other hand has no such industrious leanings. He's just been introduced to a new game by one of my friends from Wales and seems to be enjoying it. It's not trains and has some fairly soothing music, so I don't mind it. I don't understand it (as I generally don't when it comes to games like that) but I don't really have to, and as long as he is happy, that's fine by me.

He is currently asleep, fully dressed, on the bed. He fell into bed about 2 hours ago, just after dinner. We left M&Ms late last night and it was a tough drive home through pouring rain and howling wind, with some trees down that needed to be navigated round. By the time we got home, he decided he wasn't going to bed, as there wasn't really the time before he had to be up for work this morning, so he's been up since ten yesterday morning. He's having tomorrow off as well, trying to get the dentist to have a look at one of his fillings which fell out yesterday and his tooth has been giving him considerable grief.

I am now off to fall into the shower, then crawl into bed and get some sleep before getting up at half six tomorrow morning to start the whole get up, go to work, come home, do some sewing, go to bed, get up... cycle again.

Work sucks by the way. I've been told I've done something wrong, but there's no specifics over exactly what it is or how I can make a difference to what it is I have or haven't done... Let's just say I'm considering looking for another job, because I'm on a fixed term contract anyway and if they're not renewing it, I'm going to need some other source of income. I won't know if they're renewing for another week either, and even if they do, it will only be extended for three months...

Job security anyone? Bleah...

Anyway, now I'm back to procrastinating, because I'm sat here instead of going for a shower or starting another sewing thing I have to do so I can scratch it off my list. I should take pics of the baby stuff so I can post it here for people to see... Or even to use as advertising for similar items to be sold as part of my business... We shall see.

Sigh

2007-05-16T23:17:00.000+01:00

*sigh*

I need to stop reading his blog. I am the blackmailer, the threatener, the nasty person...

Why?

Because I made a choice. I made a choice to do something for us. Something that could benefit us in the long term. Something that will mean that we would be one step closer to a goal. A goal I thought was shared.

Will he do the same? Will he do what I've done? If he doesn't, then it means the end result will be different.

After words were spoken earlier, I now firmly believe that, out of spite, out of malice, or out of a genuine fear of failure, he will not be joining me.

Once again, I'm alone.

Postcard as promised.

2007-05-12T20:28:00.000+01:00

I finally have a sewing room... Almost. Just need a tall enough chair because the desks are higher than a normal table. The good news is that a chair should be reasonably easy to lay my hands on from one of the DIY places around here, although there was a nice one in the Range last time we were in there.

Anyway, the postcard from Scotland: Weather good, food great. Music BRILLIANT. Had a lovely time. Wish you could have been there.

And now for the proper version...

The weather was scorchio. I even managed to get a sunburned nose after a day out to the beach, chucking stones in the water and making my freckles almost join up into a decent tan. The Jazz Festival was amazing, and I saw some top-named bands, like the Passadena Roof Orchestra (not bad, better on the CD), George Penman's Jazz Men, although George wasn't there through ill health. They were still good though. The best nights I reckon were the Deep River Quartet, who were ace, only topped by the night Kenny Ball played.

I've been listening to his music for what feels like my whole life. Mum had some of his singles, and I loved listening to them. I feel really privelaged to have been there to see him play, and best of all, I now have his autograph! I was so chuffed when my mate came back with my programme all signed by him, and then he played Midnight in Moscow, requested for me! Oh, it was a brilliant night!

It was grand being at home with the parents as well. Mum's a good cook, dad's good with the advice, and the pair of them together are a laugh. While I was there, our friend Katrin from Germany phoned to say she was in Scotland and could she come over. Of course she could! It was brilliant to see her again (last seen about 15 years ago) and we had an absolute scream. I laughed so hard when we were watching Shrek, mostly because of something said earlier on in the day, and the joke just carried so well into the scene where the frog and snake become baloons. It wouldn't be funny if I wrote it down, so I'll save it. You'd just think I was insane (or more than normal anyway).

Anyway, I'm home, and have been feeling a bit sorry for myself. Stupidly I decided to be lazy on Wednesday night and ordered a takeaway. I was throwing it back up again by 2am and spent the last two days with food poisoning. Lovely. I'm perkier today, but still not eating much. The last traces of the food poisoning are still lurking, but I'm trying to keep my fluids up and flush the system out a bit.

Ho hum... I'm idle for the evening I think. Nearly time to make another pot of tea anyway.

Every Day The Same

Confusion

More lucky white heather...

Get your lucky white heather here...

More delays

Little things

Long time, no blog

Another step taken...

One Life...

An insight...

Sometimes...

Dressmaking and other stuff

Mourning

Very unsettling...

Project pics...

What happened next...

Reverse Karma?

Walking under ladders...

Bitter and Twisted

Sad day

Writer's block

News...

Too hot..

More stuff going on...

Moving on...

Every Day The Same Again

Another grey day...

Why life sucks...

Dear Michelle...

More rubbish

Reality Hits

Stuff...

Bloody people...

Snails move faster...

Another post. Don't die of shock.

Tempus Fugit...

Just Thinking...

Another Day...

Still Alive...

Oh Hell…

Same shit, different day

Home again…

Tired

The Procrastinator Strikes Back…

Another day…

Sod it…

31 July 08

Stuff...

So far...

Whatever next…

Difficult Much?

Update

Todays Words of the Day

P.S...

The Great Escape...

R.I.P...

Update

Update stuff

Well off the planet...

Dance madness

Home again and catching up

I fell off the planet...

Update

Stuff.

I blinked... What happened?

Jumbled thoughts

Bah humbug

That was then...

Lost...

2007 Back from the wars Part 1

Why?

Sad.

Stopped Procrastinating

*Sigh*

Postcard as promised.

Sigh