The Past is Another Country

So I had a dream the other night. I can't remember details, but the general gist of it was an ex coming back into my life. Not the ex husband. Someone from my dim and distant past. From here on, I will refer to him as PN.

PN and I went out together in the late eighties/early nineties. We met when his family moved to the island and he came to the secondary school. I was in sixth year, and despite him being the same age, he was put into fifth year. I can't remember why. I only remember thinking that he was the most gorgeous boy at school. He had the most beautiful smile, and eyes that I could have drowned in. Don't even ask about the body, because he was fit. Very fit.

I'll tell you a little secret- I still have a photo of him in my wallet from when we were dating.

Before we go any further, I should say that he has a wife and three kids, and I'm not trying to weasel my way back into his life or run off into the sunset with him. I'm just trying to explain a few things, and maybe work out some issues. It would be nice to be on speaking terms, but that's not my call.

It was soon after my major op on my leg that we met and started going out. I was the envy of more than one girl at school then. I couldn't believe my luck. He was my first proper boyfriend. Don't get me wrong- I'd had boyfriends before and was no virgin, but he was the first long-term relationship. We spent a lot of time together despite living at opposite ends of the island. We sailed, cycled, walked, swam, we held hands, snuggled and watched movies and I felt like I could do anything with him for the rest of our lives.

The beginning of the long, drawn-out end was in March 1990 when I discovered I was pregnant. I was 17. I had to tell my mother, and she said "You're going to the doctor, and the word you want to use is 'termination'", so that was that. I don't think my dad knows to this day about it. My sister and I were both told that if we came home pregnant and unmarried, we would be chucked out. I don't think they would have to be honest, but at the time it was still a valid threat in my head.

I thought I coped with the termination well, but looking back, I know I didn't. Looking back, I can see that he didn't either, but I was selfish and didn't realise how much it could affect him.

The relationship became very strained in places. He wanted to get engaged. He asked me to marry him. I said yes, but at that point he was living in a bedsit while doing an apprenticeship and I was a college dropout. I wanted diamonds I could see. We couldn't afford it. He pointed out rings, and I said no. He thought I didn't want to be with him. He was wrong, but I couldn't put aside the whole wanting to have the spectacular ring and the big wedding that neither of us could afford. Instead of being happy with what I had, I wanted more, and it killed the relationship. We bickered and fought about nothing. The termination was brought up more than once, and it was not pretty. I loved him, but my big ideas and inflexibility drove a wedge between us.

The fights got physical, but he never harmed me on purpose. His frustrations showed, and I didn't change. We both said things we shouldn't, and I accused him of being violent. If I could go back in time, I would slap my younger self and tell me to get my head out my arse. I had no clue what it was like to be in a violent relationship. The fights I had with PN went both ways and were mostly verbal.

We split up, and he started dating another girl from the island. I was pretty catty about it, and extremely jealous, because she had what I wanted. They're still married, have three children and are coming up to their 25th anniversary soon.

There is a small part of me that is jealous that she has what I wanted, but the older head on my shoulders tells me that it is my own fault that it is the way it is. He is happy, and I don't begrudge him that for one instant.

It was only many years later, when I was having investigations into why I couldn't conceive, that I found out that I couldn't have gone ahead with that pregnancy even if I had defied my mother. The major operation I had in the October of 1989 was too recent. The operation included some major cutting in my groin area to remove glands and access the artery and major veins. If I had gone ahead and tried to have the baby, it would have ripped me apart. It would have turned 24 in September of this year if I'd been able to have it.

I don't have any kids. I was angry and depressed when I was first told that kids were never going to happen naturally for me, and it broke another relationship. Another selfish act of mine because I was so hung up on the kids thing. I felt that I was being punished for throwing that first chance of a baby away, and took it out on my then boyfriend.

IVF was tabled as an option when I was with PB, but he wasn't willing to do anything about it, and there was yet another period of resigning myself to childlessness. The fact that my reproductive system had gone into free-fall by then didn't help matters, and the only real cure was sterilisation, which, while it would cure my heavy, prolonged periods (They were generally more than three months in duration, with a couple of weeks break if I was lucky) would mean definitely no children.

I was supposed to go in for the op in December 2007, the year I left PB. I ended up having it a couple of years back, with a full hysterectomy in January of last year.

The dream the other night brought everything back about how things had gone wrong between PN and me. About how badly I had behaved. How cruel some of the things I said to him were.

I don't know why, but I sent a FaceBook message to PN to apologise for the way I acted and for the things I said. There's nothing I can say or do now that will change the past: all I can do is apologise. I wanted to explain a lot of this to him, but I'm not sure he wants to go back over the past. It's done and he has his family and his life. I'm actually now second-guessing myself over whether I should have messaged him at all: will he see it as me trying to get back into his life with a hollow apology? Does he even care now about something that happened over half a lifetime ago when he was still just a teenager? He has more than likely put it all behind him, got over it, moved on- however you want to put it, and I wouldn't blame him. I was not a nice person to him.

I have often said that I must have done something really bad in a past life to deserve all my bad luck in relationships, my ill health and lack of kids. I don't think it was a different life I did something bad in. It was this one.

Nuts

I'm actually finding it difficult to know what to write, although I know I need to. I have too much going through my head and it's all very messy.

I'm starting to feel like I'm obsessing. Like there's something under my skin, bugging me all the time. It's like the song you can't get out of your head, except this is no song. I suppose it's like drug withdrawal- you want it, but you know it's not good for you, that you shouldn't go there again, that just one more indulgence could kill you. 

Tomorrow I will get in touch with my psychotherapist to schedule a continuation of my therapy. I really think I need it right now, because being stuck where I am is not going to be very healthy if I don't do something about it. I've not been able to go because I've been recovering from my op, but I'm going to have to grit my teeth for the bus journey. 

It's either that or I'm going to go completely nuts.

Nothing Changes

I would have thought that after all this time I might have managed to reconcile a few things and maybe straightened my head out a bit. Sadly, that hasn't happened. 

It's been a while since I blogged last, so to catch people up on what has happened in between times...

I binned the Bear for various reasons, none of which I want to go into right now.
I've still not managed to get the divorce completed.
My dad has been diagnosed with something nasty, but he's getting treatment.
My bloke from when I was 16 is my bloke again, and is quietly asleep in the next room. 
I had a total abdominal hysterectomy three and a half weeks ago, so still suffering the pain and boredom that comes with inability to move much without wanting to say "owch". 
I've started seeing a psychotherapist at the recommendation of my psychiatrist.

The last one mixed with the second last on the list might be the reasons I am currently having a lot of problems.

At the time I'm writing this, it is ten to five in the morning, and once again, I am having difficulty sleeping. It's not just the pain and discomfort of having had my insides scooped out, trimmed, stitched, poked at, shoved back in and stitched over that's causing it. I also am now feeling very reluctant to sleep.

My last few sleeps (I would say "nights" but the number of times I sleep during the day too because of disturbed sleep means it's not just the hours of darkness I snooze in) have been punctuated by dreams of Paul. In all of them he has been the nice version, never the nasty one. I cried into my pillow earlier because I had the sudden image of him with his long hair, in his beige leather jacket, smiling at me. I wanted to sleep, but I don't want those images in my dreams.

I wish I could hate him. I wish my dreams would stop turning to him.

If wishes were horses, I would be up to my neck in horse shit by now.

So nothing has changed in my head. 

Every day is exactly the same.

Confusion

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...

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...

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

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.