My Permission

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Today I give myself permission to move on from you. Replace you with something new. Detach from your powers. I am in control, and you are powerless. Well, for now, whilst I see you behind the fog. Please stay behind the fog, as I’m afraid of what will happen if you reappear. But today, today I gave myself permission to be open. When I saw your news, I didn’t flinch. It’s fantastic news, and news I would usually be reveling with you in. The opportunities, the promise, the prize. You did it, you’re there. I am so happy for you; you deserve it. However… when I saw it, I did not feel those things – overwhelming joy. I felt nothing. My auto-response was nothing.

I gave myself permission to explore something new, from new. Someone new. He is different to you. More akin to him. I suppose, a combination. I don’t know where it will go, or what it will be, but the important thing is that he’s there. He’s real, he’s new. And you don’t know him. And you may never will. This is the start of my next journey. The one not after you, but the one after the self-care after you. It’s the exciting next chapter. I mourned for you long enough and cared for myself in the time being. And what a wonderful time it was. What a wonderful time it is. And will be for many years to come. Cheers to me, and the notion of self-care.

Online Dating

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“Just put yourself out there” my friends say. Where exactly is out there? On the internet apparently. Out there for everyone to see, judge, click, swipe, wave, poke and text. I now have a few photos and a few paragraphs on a dating app that hopefully tells enough about me but not too much because let’s face it, there’s weirdos “out there”.

I’ve attempted app dating twice before but never lasted more than a week or two. Main reasons were that I only matched with a couple of people and the ones I did match with we didn’t get a conversation off the ground. I mean what do you say to a complete stranger? Someone who has a few bullet points and a cute quote on their file. I need to back up though, before you get to the file, you see their photo.

My friend asked me “what’s your type?” She was referring to looks. Typically, I would say clean shaven, taller than me, Caucasian, looks after himself (no crazy muscle pumping) and an incredible smile (very important feature). However, the last 2 guys I’ve had crushes on in the real world, neither of them were Caucasian, one of them had a beard and the other one carried a couple extra kilos. Why did I have a crush on them? It’s because I got to know them in my natural environment bit by bit learning about their personalities, humour, values, talents and ambitions. They are both good looking and the above listed traits made them more attractive. It’s so hard not to make snap judgements by a photo when I know there is so much more to it than looks.

In my first 24 hours I received 14 “waves”. Men letting me know that they have seen my photo (I assume they have read my profile) and they want to start chatting. 10/14 look like serial killers. I wish I was joking however I’m not exaggerating.

After 4 days I found out it’s not a free app and made the decision to pay for a month. Not ideal but feel like I need to give it a proper go. A month is a long time to me when I feel like I’m wasting my time scrolling through mug shots (many of which don’t live near me) and fearful of starting awkward chit chat.

I took the plunge and started 2 conversations with guys who waved at me. I chose 2 guys that don’t look like stalkers and focused on a common interest. Travel. It’s definitely the easiest thing for me to talk about without getting too personal too soon. I really don’t know where the conversation is meant to go next so maybe there will be a chapter 2 of this blog post.

Why am I persisting? More and more I’m hearing “we met through internet dating”. So, I better get on the internet and push through the awkward texting and hopefully it transfers into an interesting conversation with a real man.

Tragic Love

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I still suffer for you every day. My heart aches for your embrace, your kindness, and your warmth. I am robbed of our love, the happiness we shared. You took that away from us although rightly so at the time. And I am still angry at you for how you treated me. How we were – so foolishly caught up in the storm. You saved me from myself and my past, most of it at least, but you left me with new scars. Scars directly on my heart and in my memory. It’s been eight months now and I am still healing the wounds. How long will it take? I thought it would be over now, or at least starting to fade.

Everything thus far has been right, even though it’s been tough. What does the future hold? Do you think of me as much as I still think of you? I felt what I can only imagine as mother’s pain watching you from afar, struggle with your loss of freedom and success. Feeling your hand gently reaching out for a hug but knowing I could not come to you. I could not come to you because you don’t get to call the shots like that anymore. You don’t get to decide when to come into my life and turn it upside down. You don’t get to, I told you I won’t let you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hurt from it. The days before and morning of. I just have stronger shoes to keep me still.

Have you met someone new? Are you replying to my note because you feel like you should, the way you felt for the other girls who still messaged? Or is my inclination at least partially true and you reply because there’s a part of you that is trapped with me too?

Magic but tragic, is what we said. And now, I am surrounded by magic each day that I create. But I still have this tragic love for you, so tragic that I can’t endure the thought of anyone else. I hold on to your last kiss from when you let me go. The last kiss that said you’ll see me later, but hell what have we done since then. We both clearly had some work to do, and I wonder – is that work that will see us together again or work that is sending us farther apart? I am stuck in this holding ground unable to move on, and I am tortured by not knowing where you stand. How can I move on if there’s the smallest glimmer of hope? One year on, I tell myself. After one year on I should start to pressure myself forward, or forever be stuck in this trap you’re holding me in. Much like your mam, I could cry at the thought of longing for your love. For hers, for your father – the story of tragic love.

Jewellery Graveyard

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Such beautiful pieces, once so cherished. Now stare back at me, little tokens of failures. Sometimes they are always waving, laughing, jesting.

That little place in Greece, the vintage place near our old home, the characters who run it, the walk we took on our last night of that first holiday.

Memories of where these little symbols of love were gifted and collected and treated. A whole fucking box of memories. Elderly loved ones who have passed on and left colourful gems to be remembered by. Even a bracelet my Dad gave my Mum when they were young, they’re not together anymore, yet the metal lives on. A subtle and constant reminder of a love in days gone by.

We can sort the legal bit and go our separate ways, the emotional side will scar for sure. But I’m left with these metal circles and shiny bits, supposedly everlasting with eternal shapes. For they remind me of you, of what we signed up for. Our contract of love was supposed to last so much longer than this. I thought I would wear those rings forever. Our little secret wedding, just for us. ‘Mutual weirdness forever’. That was the contract, that is what we agreed.

But now I am left with this jewellery graveyard. Too loaded to re-home, too precious to part with, yet will never be worn again and are of no value to anyone else. A last blast of defiance; a man will never buy me jewellery again, I will buy my own from now on, then we will never have to do this again.

You will be moved soon, for I can’t look at you each day, it’s a cycle that makes me so sad. For now, that is how it has to be.

I Wish

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I wish I could stand up and be counted as I see so many other women do. I wish I could speak out about what you did to me without feeling ashamed and used. I wish that I had never realised that a maybe had always been yes.

I never asked to be burdened with knowledge that I would never be able to share.

I wish I could join in with the women, standing up and being strong. I wish I could say that happened to me too without being accused of being vengeful. I wish I could erase you from my life, that all of it never happened.

You took full advantage of my naivety, and now I just live with the knowledge that my innocence was taken by you.

I wish I was brave enough to report what you did. I wish that I could go on believing that it was only almost. I wish I could still believe it was almost violation.

I wish I was innocent and naive again.

Tip of My Tongue; Just Out of Reach

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This evening I was driving home from a dears friends house. My mind started wandering and suddenly it hit me. The word I have been struggling to find for a few weeks, it’s been on the tip of my tongue, just out of reach. When people ask how you are but you can’t articulate it or find the right words. Now I know.

Denied.

I feel denied. Denied a happy relationship. Denied an adult relationship. Denied the opportunity for my loving to have been worth something. Denied the chance to create a cosy new home together. Denied the future that I thought might have been possible. Denied a successful relationship. All the denied. All of the time.

When the word landed in my brain, I cried, like an animal, it wasn’t even a ‘normal’ cry. It was a noise. Maybe a howl. There is an absolutely stunning moon tonight, perhaps that is why.

I don’t often cry at maybe the more ‘usual’ things. I cry when I am sad and can’t work out why, I cry when I am tired or hormonal. But mostly, I cry when I am so filled with joy that my body just starts to leak from my eyes; when I am touched. At beautiful things. But tonight I cried a desperate, heart-breaking animal cry. It was sheer pain and hurt.

I feel totally denied of all that I thought my relationship could be, would be, might be, on a good day, if he was in a good mood…

I am so angry and sad and feel so cheated.

This is what I have been struggling to put my finger on. What the hell do I do next?

You Can’t Have Us Both

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“I’m keeping my guard up, because you let me down. But you can’t blame that I wasn’t always around. I’m keeping my guard up, because you were the one to run away…”  – Ziggy Alberts

I’m here, thinking about you always. You drive me absolutely wild. I hate you, at the same time. Our relationship is so fragile, I am so fragile. Still… It’s been four months now and I’m here being me, being the person I aspire to be, and want to be; I’m here and I’m only going onwards. You don’t get to come back in. You don’t. You don’t. Stay away.

Go and be with her – with anyone else, if you want to. I will be here for you always, but you can’t have it both. I don’t trust you not to hurt me again. I still hurt by not having your love. I was in such a good place before you interrupted me again. Stay out. Go away. You can’t message us both.

I’m keeping my guard up because you still drive me wild.

I’ll be here when you’re ready.

 

 

Children of Trouble

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The way you looked at me with your big eyes filled with fear. The way you looked at me filled with joy. You are only small and you have so much behind you already. The depth of your eyes shows the knowledge beyond your years. You stand there with your heavy worry, snacking on a giant feast. How do you see the world? Why do you see bears? What is your story?

You make me feel like you’re the only thing that matters – the you’s of the world are the most precious things. You could be brilliant – the best and the most – if we can support you to flourish. Your innocence is scary but your weight is heavy. You know so much but so little at the same time. What will you become? Will I be here to see it? Will you be jailed for your anger or institutionalised for your obsession and your difference? How can I stop it? That is my role, isn’t it?

Who are we to judge how you should behave. Einstein was a lost boy but now he’s a hero. Hawkins is a genius but he was not “normal”. These, you, are the greatest beings, they could be at least.

Your beauty is paralysing as I watch you be precarious but proud. Your nature is soft but your mind is complex. What do you say, sir? Let’s see what else is behind those thick and velvet curtains. Let’s see what else has not yet escaped from that marvellous mind of yours. Let’s go.

Happy Birthday

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Happy birthday beautiful!

I wish so much I could click my fingers, open my eyes and be with you. With the winter behind us and the arrival of spring we could find a nice spot in the park where the sun falls softly on us and the first blue bells in the grass.

Reminiscing of past adventures we realise turning one year older isn’t all that bad. Another year with love and friendship like ours is plenty of reason to celebrate. Like any good adventure story there’s triumph’s and falls, heroes and villains, romance and heartbreak. Let your new chapter begin! I believe the best is yet to come.

On this birthday may you feel steadiness in the waves of life and comfort in your spirit knowing Jesus loves you and so do I.

I look forward to the day we sit on the grass for real. That thought alone fills me with joy.

You’re a treasure.

Thank you for being you and giving all you have.

Enjoy your day. Your birthday!

I Am Nothing But Something To You

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I am nothing to you until I have children. Sometimes you make me feel like a chore. Is this the world you want for me? No wonder I could feel objectified, because that’s how you are with me. Cart me round in your fantasy but without actually seeing me. You know very little about who I am, how fragile I can be. You don’t see it, all you see is your own views of me.

You don’t encourage me when I tell you I want to do something big, you tell me it’s a lot of work and money. Yet, if my brother or boyfriend want to, then they get your support? Why? Because all you want me to do is have children so that you can be a grandma and tell all your friends that your story is complete. Well guess what? Fuck your fantasies and start listening to me, to mine.

Dare I dream of a world where I can come run crying to you, for that would be a killing hope. I learnt very young that you don’t know how to hold me. You wonder how I can be so dismissive towards you – it’s because you were to me. Where do you think I learnt it? Children don’t just imagine up dismissive behaviour, they learn it. It’s taken me years to listen to my body and understand why I felt this way towards you, and why it’s not my fault, and why I shouldn’t carry around guilt for feeling it. Now I see it so clearly that it’s always been this way, and it’s not me exaggerating. I am an adult and you can still affect me with your ways. I am an adult, trying to be somebody, and you can still make me feel like I’m just some thing.

You must be deeply unhappy under all of that, even though you won’t be aware; masked it for so many years. I was. I did. Another thing you taught me – how to search for happiness in all the wrong places. I can’t blame you for that part I guess, since you don’t know the answers. But you should still see me, care for me, show love for me. Listen to me, listen to what I tell you, show you, feel.

Well that part is over now, because you have lost your hope. You’ve confirmed for me that it is how it is for a reason, but it can’t be any other way. The difference now is that I can see it. I can see through all of it, and I just need to accept it and find ways to manage it. You.

I am more than what you make me, and I’ll be more than you could dream for me too.