Stuck

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Stuck. Utterly, utterly stuck. Someone else holds the cards.

You are the Trump of the heart; incapable, ill-equipped, uncaring, full of misplaced knowledge, power, control and a position you do not deserve to be in. How on earth does this happen?

Why didn’t you stay as you were and not try and be an adult? You are the definition of a ‘man child’. You never fully developed, nor did you seek to. Yet you hooked onto me and tried to pretend you had. You have wasted 7 years of my life.

You should not be in a relationship, you should stay single forever. Don’t damage anyone else. ‘Work’, pay for sex, carry on. How can you be so detached, literal, basic? I really thought you had something different to offer. You clearly did, nothing good though.
Some mistakes are hard to recover from.

One Day, Though Maybe Never.

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I tried. I tried in a way which feels like the word ‘tried’ has worn out and has less value.

I deflect the comments that ‘people give up too easily these days’ and I absorb the words of loved ones who say they wouldn’t have hung around so long. How am I supposed to find the middle balance of those statements?

I tried everything. Adapting, overcoming, asking for help, contorting myself to all the extremities in the hope I could fix it. I ran out of ideas, beyond usual levels of endurance, I tried.

One day, though maybe never, you will understand quite what I put myself through in an effort to keep us together and save our marriage. One day, though maybe never, you will have a glimmer of respect for my levels of endurance – to save Us.

The Pain, Of Starting Again.

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What is step 1?

Where do I go from here?

You can understand that once you made a mistake, a bad choice, an error of judgement – blame it on youth, naivety, a need to get away from your home.

But this? How? How could you make such a big decision, poorly, twice.

It is indescribably disruptive, affecting. Like a poison. You, and this situation has bled into my life; changing the contours of my thoughts, feelings, fun, friendships, work, big decisions, small decisions. The doubt you have created in me has rocked me to my centre.

How did I let this happen?

You are a good actor. Copying others, pretending you knew how to love, how to share, how to express, how to care. Yet so little of what you acted was true, if any. That’s what your condition does to you. The article said you’re incapable of loving, showing care, empathy. You simply don’t have these things in you. Yet I am brimming with all. An abundance, maybe why you were so attracted.

I am hollow, you have left me utterly bare. Empty. I thought you, me, us, was my success story. That I could have a happy marriage. Second time lucky. Surely, it couldn’t go wrong twice?

Apparently not. You made me ill, you made me contemplate leaving here forever. You pushed me to the brink and beyond. You will never know how hard you are to be around.

How I tried everything to make you happy. Too much. You took all of me. There is very little left. I am running on air, fumes.

Leave me be and let’s move on.

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.