Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum


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The value of therapy

I had never had any experience with counselling or therapy until after Roger’s affair with Leanne. I felt pretty self aware, knew what drove me, what my flaws and strengths were. I made sure I communicated about these to the people I love.

No counselling. Not after a violent rape. Not after my “happily married” parents suddenly (to me) divorced and I lost my childhood home and my respect for my father, if I had any (I think I did as a child) forever. Not after Rog sent me away to the other side of the world because “I was not fulfilling my potential. It’s for your own good.” Not after I lost four pregnancies. Not after my mother dropped dead at 55. Not after his sisters smeared our names all over, and completely rejected us.

I must say, it does annoy me no end that I now have a lot of experience with it, and as every single counsellor has underlined to me, none of this is any of my doing. I am dealing with a set of circumstances and feelings that have been caused by the fact that I loved a selfish and entitled man, who could not, or would not communicate with me. That totally pisses me off, because we talked.

But he never communicated. Ugh. Talk, talk, talk, tell me what I want to hear, make me feel safe, so treasured and special with your words, don’t for God’s sake, ever tell the truth about your actual feelings!

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Latest session, my therapist (Grace) kept asking me why I make excuses for his shit. Hmmm, here we go again, I had this in couples’ counselling, “stop defending him, Paula.” I wasn’t even aware I was doing it, it is me trying to be balanced. To see things from his point of view. I even did it to Trinket, when I met her, in utter shock, all those months ago, “oh, well, despite all of that bad stuff, all the personal stuff about you he shared with me, he is a truly delightful guy.” Bloody hell, go me, I should have turned up in my cheerleader uniform, with his face embroidered on it.

And what did Grace say to that?

“That is because you have been wired since you were 20 years old to ALWAYS see things from his point of view, to back down to his way or the highway. And you are a FIERCELY loyal person, once you give someone your heart, you will die for them. I will say it again, you were in an abusive relationship for thirty years, and the one time you took a stand, when it was clear that it was over, to tell him not to keep bringing other women into your house, what happened? What happened when you pushed back?” Um, well, I didn’t really disagree with too much, so the harmony was easy to achieve, for the first 20 years. I did always know to pick my battles, though. If I REALLY wanted it to happen, I would stand and argue for it.

And honestly, I REALLY HATE it being called abusive. I don’t for a minute believe Roger did any of this deliberately. He made mistakes because of the set of emotional skills he brought to our relationship. He just never followed through with mindful change after he learned about it. After he totally shattered my heart. Because apparently I didn’t mean enough to him. And I am terrified he is being better for her. Of course he is, because at the moment they are not fully living together, etc. And I guarantee he is trying harder for her, with her. But, I have this awful feeling Grace may be right, I tolerated being second class because it was all about Rog and the kids. What a dick I have been!

Ugh, I thought I was so independent, strong-willed, etc. Nope, just another stupid woman, bending over backwards to make sure he was happy. Because when Rog is happy, life is so, so amazing. He makes you feel so content with life, and the physicality: cuddles, kisses, stroking your skin, talking softly, licking your ear, nuzzling your neck, fondling your bum, telling funny stories, laughing at the same things you laugh at… Grace then said, so, when you needed to find you again, after he was fucking around on you, what happened? What happened to your self esteem? What feedback was he giving you about those 4 years you went back to find your 20 year old self, your true self, by studying your butt off? By finally “fulfilling your potential?”

Yuck. Yep, she’s right, he resented every bit of it. The time I was physically away, at classes, the money it took (and hey, I was a scholarship student after my first year back) and the “rise in my formally recognised academic status.” Oh God, really? No. No way! Surely he was not that small? I thought he was all about equality. Um, not quite. Not really sure why I even thought that, when I look at how we were. I feel so, so sad about it all, my beloved was not backing me the way I backed him. Much like his eldest sister, “yeah, equality!” until you ‘overtake’ me on something, that is. Shiiiit. Wow.

But yes, he was mad. He resented me being focused on “not him.” I have said it before, but our youngest child said that to me the day that her dad told me he was leaving me. And the middle one said it to me the other day. Dad resented your individual achievements, Mum. Ick. Isn’t that awful? I probably, sort of, knew it, but kept pushing anyway, as he SAID he was okay with it, and I knew I needed to do it to rebuild all the self esteem he tore down.

And most of all? I wanted him to be proud. I wanted him to think I was amazing, like I think he is amazing. Like I told my friend the other night, when someone does this – even though the affair is all about selfishness, needing to feel desired, and special, and the buzz of the naughtiness of fucking someone who is not your partner, the adrenaline rush (good or bad, because hell, Rog used to tell me it was not a good rush, but hell baby, IT WAS A RUSH! Go you!) of all the sneaking around, I can’t put this on my credit card, because the woman I live with, “who is not my partner” (yeah right) can’t know I took you out for dinner and a fuck, all those clandestine plans, keeping secrets, feeling like you can fool your partner, because hey, you are SO much smarter than their silly trusting selves…. the betrayed partner, me, STILL feels like an ugly, stupid, fat, crap-at-sex, bad listening, bad life partner, NOT GOOD ENOUGH person. And, YES, don’t worry, I KNOW intellectually that is all bullshit, but I FEEL it, because of HIS choices, to constantly choose other women over me. She looked at me like I had fallen from Mars. “What? You can’t possibly feel like that after being loyal and all you gave? You are a bloody special person, who loves hard and he doesn’t deserve you. He traded down.” But, I don’t see it that way in my heart, I see it as him replacing me with someone who is better than me. I know it is stupid, but… Um, yep, yep I do. I feel like a piece of shit he now wants to scrape off his shoe. And what is worse is, I am an intelligent person, and STILL TOTALLY LOVE him. Bloody hell, give that girl a good hard slap, will ya?! Complete BWS right there.

Anyway, through all the tears today (I cried a lot in therapy today, ugh) I asked why I am having such a hard time now, with all the knowledge, with the final rejection so obvious? Why after doing okay(ish) for three months, trying to learn that I am okay and will be okay, am I feeling so damn low? He hates me. Why? Why is it taking me so long to get with the program? And it is because I have a brain that was built-by-Norm. My reward centre is ruled by the feedback I got from him. I need to keep going with building my own version of me. What are my core values, why did I compromise on them for him over and over?

So, I booked another massage, ew. People. Strange people. Not Rog. Touching my body. And have to keep pushing through the agony of this new life, until I actually GET through it. I keep thinking of our dear, dear friend, who killed himself after his wife left, and how I was so sad at the time that he wasn’t able to outlast the agonising pain he was dealing with. I want to outlast the pain. I don’t want my kids to only have Roger and Trinket as parents. I miss my Mum.

I hope I am strong enough, because right now, I just want to go and lie down.

And never wake up again.

But, apparently, that is not an option….

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The safety plan in action

I have been reviewing my therapy homework, which is basically a sensory diet exploration activity checklist, where I need to consider the sensory practices that appeal most to me to reduce distress. And had the worst aches today. I think the weather was a huge factor, it was really stormy here, and I went out to buy some railing offcuts to repair some bits in my fences, otherwise, was a little housebound. I thought I might nap, to try to catch up on the no sleep last night, but Karina messaged me to say she was coming over. Which was good, as yesterday the safety plan was also enacted, with L inviting me out for the afternoon and dinner at her place. It was needed. I am usually great at being alone, but at the moment, I am not very safe being alone for too long.

Karina brought lunch, which I could not eat (loss of appetite is a real indication of emotional pain for me) and I tried valiantly to force some food down, nearly gagging as I did so. I am so mindful I need to nourish this poor body of mine, to try to heal it, get well again. I was kind of hiding the lack of food disappearing from my plate, but I know Karina noticed.

She talked a bit about how she had come across the EMDR info, as she was not aware it was called that when she received in over twenty years ago, and we talked about the efficacy of certain practitioners of it, and made a plan to see someone else, if the woman I am currently seeing does not seem to be working out for me.

I was glad of her company. I lie, not really, I wanted to be alone, but also knew I needed someone here. I have just listened to some voicemail, as I am struggling to answer the phone at the moment, and have been asked to dinner tomorrow night. I am supposed to (my self imposed rule) say yes to everything.

WpVAElg

I haven’t. I just don’t know that I can fake it tomorrow, there’s been a bit too much of that lately, and I am exhausted. I am not usually this friend. I must reply first thing in the morning. I will will myself to send a message declining this time. Besides, I have a blood draw in the morning, and am trying to feel rested and strong, hoping the counts have improved.

So, did the top three things on my sensory list, and now trying to settle down to get some sleep by listening to some soft, soothing music. Must remember to book a massage as touch is number five, and I don’t have a human to touch me right now.

Night team, sweet dreams xxx


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Dreams in my head

Posting at 3.30am, as I haven’t been able to get back to sleep tonight.

The wind is roaring outside, and as we lived in a high wind zone for much of our lives together, I am missing snuggling into his warm body, being enveloped by his long arms…ah well. Not anymore.

I make plans to catch up with a friend, Karina, about once a month. She has a just-turned-two-year-old. She and her partner tried for so many years to conceive, and spent tens of thousands of dollars on fertility treatment, if not more. They finally got their little girl, whom she carried to term, when Karina was 46. As such, I go to her, so her toddler can be accommodated and I usually get to chatter away to her, play a little before bed. We usually share a bottle of wine, I even stay on their couch sometimes, as they live some distance from my home, and if I have a couple of drinks, there is no public transport, etc.

I had to delay the last catch up for a few weeks, with a couple of clashes occurring, so it was extra sweet to make it to her this week.

Karina has been one of the special finds, a person I have known for a long time, but was not particularly close to. She has stepped up to become a very kind and loyal friend through the post-Leanne years. She was also a friend of Leanne’s, but had worked out her narcissistic personality and avoided her for some years prior to Roger’s 18 month long affair with her. When the affair was outed, she was horrified. As she said to me, to have done it in my homes, around my kids, under my nose, continually denying any wrongdoing, how stunningly disgusting.

This time around, she has shared a little more of her past. She was married as a young woman to a controlling man, as a result, in order to unhook herself from him fully, she had to move overseas, she is not from this country. She found even after they divorced, she was still controlled and attached to him, having a sexual relationship with him for years afterwards, much to her shame. Getting away from him was necessary to her mental health. She has been in a relationship with her current partner for around 15 years, and she says she is still pretty fucked up by her ex, who is now thrice divorced before he is 50 years old.

We talked about her life as a mother, which has come to her later in life. And the challenges it has presented, and the ways in which her teaching practice has been influenced by the extra research mothers do about development, etc. Then she mentioned that she had been doing some research about how to help me.

Sweetheart, right there.

She told me that in her country of origin, she had EMDR therapy some years after her divorce, and that it helped her immensely, and immediately. I laughed, and said, that is what I am starting on next session with my shrink. We also had a brief chat about sex, and her comment that she and her partner had only had sex TWICE THIS YEAR completely shocked me.

I seem to have run into a bunch of people recently, who are partnered, who don’t seem to have sex! WTF? I mean, hell, I know this happens, but they don’t seem to be too concerned. Really??? I was uber concerned when my libido was adversely affected, and our usual 5 or 6 times a week, was reduced to around once or twice. I missed it so much, and I knew Rog was really struggling, he HATED less sex.

I also understand that sex is just one aspect of a loving relationship. But, for me, it was such a huge indicator of the health of our connection. I knew I was quite damaged when the desire for sexual connection waned, for the first time in our thirty years together. And I knew when the desire returned fully, that I was healing nicely. We were intense, we truly seemed bonded to one another (for me, at least) via those fabulous lovemaking sessions. That was a big part of who we were, for me. It felt like the reason, if we were out, at a party, for example, he could look over at me, and I would feel a sexual electricity just from his eyes meeting mine across a crowded room. My friend, J, has told me many times that she had seen this, and was deeply envious of us.

But, all that connection has somehow been severed. He doesn’t love me anymore, and I know he has forgotten how much we loved each other.

If he ever did.

He was my everything.

And the dreams/nightmares recently have been focused on sex again, rather than the outright violence of the rape scenes. But, still painful and unhealthy. I wake in shock, often drenched in sweat, and ache all over. They seem to be very focused on sex between Trinket and Rog, where I am forced to watch them fucking. Her moaning in ecstasy as he makes her orgasm over and over and over. Them sweating and entwined. And I can’t seem to stop these. I do sometimes have these scenes creep into my head whilst awake – I have spoken of the mind movies before – but am usually able to reduce or banish them by mindfulness and distraction, etc. Asleep, the mindfulness is not there, and the imagination is free to do whatever the fuck it likes. And fuck, does it like to torment me!

Anika Moa: Dreams in My Head

You may not remember me
I am the girl with the tear in her eye
Tear in her eye
And I never expected a call from you
Thinking about it now, I guess I did
I guess I did

Cos I have all these dreams in my head
Of you and I together, waking in each other’s arms
If I only I could tell you how I feel
Then I wouldn’t have to sit here and think about losing you
But it’s just a dream
I have in my head

You notice I’ve been shaking my head
And spending another day missing you
Of missing you

And on this sign, there’s the two of us
Sinking in the sand of our desperate love
Our desperate love

Cos I have all these dreams in my head
Of you and I together waking in each other’s arms
If I only I could tell you how I feel
Then I wouldn’t have to sit here and think about losing you
But it’s just a dream
I have in my head

If you could see my heart is bleeding
I’ll stay here now and wait
For you to show

Cos I have all these dreams in my head
Of you and I together waking in each other’s arms
If I only I could tell you how I feel
Then I wouldn’t have to sit here and think about losing you
But it’s just a dream
I have in my head

It makes me quite sad
That it’s unrequited love

If you could see my heart is bleeding


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Mum

Just a brief few words to acknowledge the anniversary of my mother’s untimely sudden death at just 55 years of age, seventeen years ago yesterday. It was an intensely weird thing, very rushed, as I tried to let my siblings know, deal with my own young kids, and I miss her every single day.

Sharing a grainy photo of a photo I have shared on social media of her. I am estimating we are about 21 and 43 here. As usual, my total photogenic tendencies are at play #restingbitchface. God, I loathe the camera…

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Slow burning friendship

With the shock of what happened in my life, I felt I lost a few friends. I was all at sea, completely blindsided by his lying and cheating again, this time to exit our partnership.

Slowly, things are starting to become clear.

Last night, an old and dear friend, I shall call her Bella, invited me to dinner at her place. We have only caught up a few times very briefly recently, and she has been supportive, but has a very high pressured new job that she is almost overwhelmed by.

It was so good.

Some history…

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We grew up together, rode at the local Pony Club, and competed at the local shows. She was sent off to a posh boarding school in the big smoke, but we always kept in touch. Bella left school a year early, and went overseas, living in the States, Ireland, the UK, Italy, etc, learning her craft. When she popped back from time to time, we always caught up and had a few drinks and a lot of laughs. We were idiots!

She is also somewhat of an ex of Roger’s. Geez, small town incestuousness, ick…

They were basically friends with benefits. I knew, and was fine with it, it was before my time. She is a really good person.

When we separated, and I was in the UK, Bella had just returned again, and seeing as we were done, the FWB arrangement resumed. They were not exclusive, as nothing more than a friendship. He was also shagging a couple of others. I also knew about this at the time, no drama. We were separated.

When I discovered my pregnancy – I conceived five years into our relationship, unplanned, but discovered the pregnancy whilst apart – we had a good talk, and Norm said he was absolutely sure he wanted to be with me. She told him that their FWB thing had to be over. He thought they could carry on until I got home.

Um, red flag alert!

Bella said, no way, Rog, you are now with the love of your life, Paula, again, and you need to start focusing on that. She was actually really awesome, and very supportive of me and us. Always said we were “meant to be.”

I just thought he was a little immature, and I didn’t judge him for it. Kind of like all the female “friendships” he had over the years. All the out-all-night-drinking-with-the-boys, while I was at home with babies, and never complained. But.

Red. Bloody. Flag!

So, I was bright and bubbly last night – I am Meryl-bloody-Streep in these situations -when about an hour into things, Bella asked me how I was really doing, that it must be really hard.

I caught my breath.

I worked with this fabulous woman decades ago. When she set up her own business years later, I worked part time for her while I was dairy farming, and also after we moved to the sheep and beef property. I loved working for her, such good times, and she was so empathetic when she heard how terribly we had been maligned by Roger’s sisters, and was utterly appalled at the rift that occurred. She also was one of only a few people who saw me as the meat in the rancid sandwich, it was not of my choosing, but I got dragged into the murk of it all by being loyal to Roger, even though I quietly mourned the loss of my family – the in-laws.

Anyway, back to now. I said it was hard. Harder than I was hoping it would be. Bella is a very pragmatic woman, not given to emotionality, or generally hugely warm. But I have always felt huge affinity with, and understanding from, her. She immediately got up, came over, and held me close, rubbing my back, saying, “you have been treated appallingly here, by so many people, and you have done NOTHING wrong. You have had to deal with a serial cheat, him leaving you after you worked hard on yourself, and did all he wanted you to do, finding a new home, constructing a new identity, battling illness, dealing with death, this has been a shitty, shitty time, and you are amazing for still standing.”

I wobbled a bit.

this-is-real-friendship-this-is-real-friendship-this-is-real-friendship_o_173073

Then, her cousin arrived, and we were bright and chatty while we ate dinner, drank champagne, and talked about both of their recent overseas holidays. I caught up with how her cousin’s kids are doing, and laughed at her travel anecdotes, and then her cousin left to go home again.

Bella and I sat down with a cuppa in front of her fire, her elderly dog, who adores me, stretched out on my feet. She took up where she left off. Said she had seen Roger at the races down in his town. And of course, Trinket. I said I knew she would have caught up, and that was absolutely no drama, to be expected. She said she had her 17 year old son with her, and he did not want to talk to Rog, as he felt deeply uncomfortable about him being there without me, rather with another woman. I thought that was very sweet of him, but said, well, this is reality. Trinket has replaced me now. Bella snorted, and said, “hardly, Paula. I did not really talk to her, and she seemed pleasant enough, but bland, there didn’t seem much I wanted to know about her, just a wee, beige mouse.” I just said, “ah well, obviously he wants that now.” Then she said, “he will regret this, Paula. Moving down there. He’s bored. He doesn’t have his friends around as much. He has thrown away a truly top woman, and all she brought to him, and for what? I’m so glad he moved away. You know what is happening now, don’t you?” I’m sure I looked confused. “There is a groundswell of support growing for you. People are waking up to the way he has behaved. Those friends that judged you? I have heard them make some pretty interesting comments lately.” I just replied that I made a mistake early on, and in shock, blurted out some truths to people who were never going to be able to absorb them. I had been set up to fail, as I did tell two friends three years ago that I felt we needed to separate. And of course, as I healed, I didn’t say, oh no, I made a mistake, just needed a bit longer, so yeah, I look like an idiot. However, I learned quickly, to keep my mouth shut, and the truth would be likely to emerge eventually. Bella nodded and said, “you have done the right thing.”

I told her about the confusion. The telling me he loved me, and only me, buying me a birthday present, literally with the word love written on it, the long loving cards and notes he wrote to me, then weeks later, that he had met someone else. That he told me that we had damaged each other, and that maybe one day we would get back together, that we were still intimate the whole time we lived together, because I was sure he would wake the fuck up and come to his senses. Like the idiot I was.

annoyed love

She shook her head, and said, what a mind fuck! And, looked me dead in the eye and said, “don’t you DARE ever take him back! Even if he and Trinket do not last (I interjected that I think they will) do NOT entertain taking him back. He is a sick man, who has not faced up to who he is, and tried to make lasting changes. If you ever took him back, I would lose all respect for you, you are an amazing, intelligent, beautiful, loving, kind and generous woman who was an incredible, hard working partner and friend, building a life, business and family together, and you deserve SOOOOO much better than what he has put you through. And, man, is the next guy gonna get a total jewel!”

I looked sideways at her and said, never again. I really don’t think I could ever go through this ever again. She replied that she hope that was not the case, because I was “too good to waste.”

Naw. How precious is she?

 

 

 

 


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Resilience

I have got really low again, obviously.

It is incredibly frustrating dealing with the pain – and anger at myself for feeling such a lot of pain about a man who decided not to love me anymore. I still don’t have a clue what the hell is wrong with me, because I still completely love the ghost of who I thought he was.

It is so heartbreaking, the grief.

The counselling session went better yesterday. My therapist came up with the beginnings of a safety plan. Which, to be honest are mostly formalising the steps I already have in place to avoid self harm, but adding the CAHT team to the list (for those in crisis.) The other steps I already practice. Mindfulness, time in nature, exercise, non-isolating practices (contacting safe friends.) My rule for when I am feeling scared I am at risk of self harm – since my suicide attempt after finding out Roger was cheating on me with Leanne – is that I HAVE to tell one person. I have three safe people I can tell now. Previously it was only Roger, I would tell him I was in crisis. Obviously I can’t do that now, and it was EXTREMELY hard to reach out to someone else. You feel so weak and foolish admitting to such dangerous and frankly “insane” thoughts.

She also told me that my coping mechanisms, of talking and writing are not enough. That I need to express my justifiable anger in a physical manner. Basically, I need a punching bag. And to scream.

I asked her why I am still caring about him so much (loving him, ick) and her response was that I was in an abusive and controlling relationship with a man who subtly – and probably unintentionally (and don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate Roger, and I really don’t believe he meant to do this, was his entitlement that ran things, I hope he really did love me as deeply as I do him, once upon a time) – shaped and molded my brain. That everything I did was focused on him, and his happiness and pleasure, even above those of our kids, and certainly above my own, and when I did something for me – the Masters – that he reacted to that lack of centrality by looking elsewhere, I was not allowed to not focus on him. I do know this. I thought he would allow me the healing time and admire my strength, hard work, intellect and resilience to improve myself, because that is how I think. But controllers tend to focus only on what is in it for themselves. Well, d’uh!

She described that MRI scans can now track emotions in the brain, and that neuroscience can see the ‘deep ruts’ that are created by these pathways that are worn in our brains, and trying to get people out of these destructive pathways is incredibly difficult. It will be a very long battle to rewire me.

Great.

This was not who I used to be.

Dealing with a cracking headache today because of how I was up all night furious that I had allowed my buttons to be pushed by him lying-by-omission again. I mean, I know he lies, and can’t keep to arranged agreements – we all know he couldn’t abide by not having her in my house, and lied when he was caught, just like he did to me the three times I “caught” him in the affair with Leanne, lied, and I believed him back then – so why be angry about that?

So, my deep disappointment in myself has me regrouping again today. I did a self care thing by calling into my dear friend, L’s work, with her favourite coffee and having a long, warm hug with her on my way to work this morning. She gets it, and is always there for me. I admitted I was bad again, and she said she would come and stay with me, I now have my personal suicide watch attendant, lol. I said I think I am okay, that saying it helps, and that knowing she will come any time of the day or night is incredible to me. And promised that I would definitely call her if I was worried about myself.

Friendship_Meme_1

I also video chatted my frustrations out with the incredible Crazy Kat last night. I felt bad, she is on holiday, but was incredibly generous with her time, wisdom and friendship. What a gem, thank you Kat xxx.

And today, in the office, as I am grappling with some really difficult concepts, my mother’s bestie rang me, to check in. I have not been in touch with him much lately, kind of embarrassed at how poorly I am doing. He asked, and was horrified he had missed my downward spiral – said I am Oscar worthy! So, he is catching up with me this weekend, and said I MUST call in after work often, for wine and a hug. Naw. I just feel like such a damn loser over all of this agony and misery.

So, part of my regrouping, is to consider resilience again, and why I seem to be so lacking in it at the moment. I like this little page, especially about self compassion, because I am so DAMN angry at myself. I mean, two other people, who are not me, have decided to be together, obliterate my hopes and dreams, despite the fact that I was working hard in a relationship with one of them, who I was open and honest with and expected the same in return. The injustice of them galloping off on the white stead, happy as a pair of clams, despite three decades of loyalty and hard damn work to recover from another deep hurt, ugh, while I ache and battle such heartbreak to heal again is unbearable.


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3.30am joint property blues

Hmmm, so, yeah, he is still there. With Trinket. Of course.

I thought he had decided to just stay one night, on his way home. But no, they are there all week. Nice to not have to work fulltime. This had to be pre-planned, sorting the dogs and kids, etc, and he was never intending on staying with our daughter. Which is sad, because it caused her some anxiety and she made plans to accommodate him. It is fine that they are there. EXCEPT THAT WE HAVE A CLEAR AGREEMENT THAT WE HAVE TO NOTIFY THE OTHER IF WE ARE GOING. And guess who wanted to go, to use the space to work (I have some really complicated import paperwork I am trying to get my head around and thought I might pop down for a night and do it there, much quieter, no phone ringing) but can’t, because they are there?

Now, this will come as such a shock to you all, but, he did not tell me. Grrr. My lawyer insisted we draw up a schedule, but no, Mr, I-am-above-the-rules insisted we did not need one. And called me a liar when I said that was not what we agreed to, could he please be open and honest about using the place.

Nice. Nice touch. I have no idea where he came up with that from, what he was basing that on, and I largely ignored the bait. But yeah, quietly furious – and deeply puzzled – at that sort of hypocrisy. And he would know it would have pissed me off.

We do need one. I will be the one to sort it, of course. He can pay.

It never gets old.


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Half-arsed parenting

So, apparently he came to see our daughter. The first effort he has made to see her since March. She went to him in May, but it was in a crowd, so no one-on-one time. And, truth be told, not THAT much of an effort, he was up here dropping his father off, so, no special trip. The plan was to stay the night at her house. She prepared for that, and let her flatmates know. But he drove off at 7.30pm.

Now, I dunno, but having made plans, her having to get emotionally adjusted to see him (see previous post, I’m pretty sure that was what some of her angst the day before was about) it is pretty shit.¬†According to her, he has gone to our lake house for the night.

Which he is not supposed to do without letting me know. But hey, when has he EVER played by the rules, or told the damn truth? I could get pissy, but what is the point? I have work, so he would have assumed I didn’t need to know. And my thoughts are that he couldn’t bear to be even one night away from his love, so Trinket has probably driven the few hours to stay in my home with him.

Or…

And this is what my mind does. He is meeting one of the other online women there. His favourite place to fuck them.

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Ah well, daughter got a nice meal and $50 out of it. What a win, lol.


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What’s good?

I use this space to dump the hard stuff. And recently, there has been such a lot of the negative, hard stuff. I am sorry. It is the middle of winter, and it has been wet, grey and a bit miserable. I may be feeling the effects of SADD to some degree.

So, what’s good? What do I focus on to try to keep the dark demons at bay? It is hard, I do practice a lot of mindfulness, and I do try hard to collect the positives, any glimmer of hope. One of the tools I use is Instagram, a visual medium to literally collect images, admire those of others. I meditate sometimes, but am struggling to do so at the moment, I can’t seem to empty the thoughts, let go of the pain and swirling questions…

My dogs are fun. Thay make me smile. Even in the moments when my mind is wandering down the dark path, when I miss Rog (it’s been really bad today, I really, really miss him, and wonder how you turn that love off, he doesn’t love me anymore, and I honestly thought we had the best love story. How did he switch from loving me, to just, pop! Loving her? Just like that, the past is erased.) I have just run a warm bath, as I have been very achy with the emotional pain today, my back aches, I have really sore abs, my chest aches, and my biceps, OWWW. I think I was clinging to a pillow in bed last night…

At the moment, the big dawg has climbed on the furniture behind me. She is a farm dog, and was never allowed in the house as a working girl. But, right now, she is thinking, hmm, Mum can’t see me here, I am in the dark corner, and she is facing the other way. I AM INVISIBLE!!! WOOOHOOOOOO!

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The little one comes most days with me to work, and that is such a comfort. She is damn hilarious.

Talking to my kids. I try to stay here by staying connected with them.

I look for visual beauty in my world, not always the usual, but beauty in scars, beautiful parts in what is otherwise considered ugliness. But, also the very ordinary beauty. I buy fresh flowers for my home as often as I can. Presently, I have large, fragrant lilies opening on my dining table. Blissful. I plan for my mental health. I think of outings I can take, bush walks and mountain paths, trips I can make, music and movies I can soak in…

The thing with feeling this dark, is that the normal things that I love in my life, I struggle to connect with. I have a good life. I really do. I am so lucky. But, I just don’t absorb that.

Therapy tomorrow, my safety plan. Hmmm. I made it through another week, with only two super scary moments, where I was so very worried and panicked I was going to do something irreversible. I was focused on my son, on my work, on getting to tomorrow. I dunno, I don’t have a lot of faith in this woman. It worries me that she didn’t do something about the emergency I was experiencing. You pay these people a lot of money, and I made it clear that I am not very safe right now.

But, again, that is not what it good. I keep sliding off the track…

So, will light some scented candles, and get in that bath, to soak the aches away. Might be time to book another massage.


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Sick child. And other things…

You are always a Mum. Right?

Our youngest came around last night. She is not in a good head space. Had been doing well, but fell in a bit of a hole, with the new uni semester due to start again. It seems her desire to move to another city to complete her degree has been thwarted. They are talking about it adding another 18 months to her undergrad.

Of course, I have bleated on about it, my mental health is still pretty fragile, too. However, I have to be the grownup, and pretend I am doing okay, have it almost together, because it isn’t fair to the kids, they cannot EVER know how close I am to the edge, how hard I work every day at the moment, minute by minute, hour by hour, to stay in the world. It isn’t that they can’t know that sometimes life gets hard, more that I can’t put this heavy load down anywhere near them right now, it is not their load to bear. No one wants to hear that their mother is suicidal!

We had a quick chat, and I could see she was struggling, not doing well at all, so, we lay on my bed together, and she talked and cried a bit, as I held her close, trying to comfort her. Her heartbreak is not healed yet, from her breakup early in the year. She feels like a loser because she feels she should be better by now (no shit, Sherlock, welcome to the world of heartbreak!) And, I think she was tired, getting sick, and it was making her emotional. We talked for quite a while about how long this is taking for her, and what self care steps she might need to consider implementing. Mindfulness, meditation, friends who are reliable and caring…..I think she is depressed, and suffering from anxiety, and needs help. Help that I can’t really give properly. I can support, and love, and pay for doctors and counsellors, but I don’t have the skills, and am too close to her to be fully effective. She is very resistant to the idea of counselling. She had some on her return from her high school exchange, and felt it just dragged up other stuff, and made the situation worse. I tried to tell her it is a process, not a quick fix. But, stubborn. She is her father’s daughter after all, lol. I am hoping she will talk to a doctor, at least.

Anyway, she has her dad coming today, and I said to her, that is a good thing. She shrugged her shoulders and said she has nothing to talk to him about, that they are so disconnected, and he has never tried to understand her. She will have to pretend she is interested in him, and pretend to laugh at his jokes. I told her she needed to give him the opportunity to learn, but that if it didn’t happen, at least she will have tried.

Then, she has been messaging me this morning that she has a vomiting bug, and feels like shit.

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Hmmm, coincidence? Probably. But, hell, timing! He wants to stay at her student flat, on the couch tonight. That is interesting. I wonder if that will happen, but hey, none of my business. I feel for her, she is struggling with her emotions, and I know the two youngest kids are deeply affected by the abuse they witnessed Roger inflicting on me. And I don’t just mean the physical abuse. They know he was cheating on me, again, and that I was completely broken, shattered and in bits, by him carrying on with yet another woman, spending money and time on her, when I gave him everything I had to give. I thought I had put on a decent front, but they both say it was utterly appalling, him letting me cook and clean for him, shop for his clothes, personal hygiene and keep his business affairs running, doing tax returns, invoicing, speaking to me like I was dirt, rubbing my face in his new love, etc. All the while, openly carrying on with a person he barely knew. Someone he picked up, by lying to her – and a whole plethora of other women – online. He favoured a complete stranger over the kickarse woman who had loyally loved him, cared for him, for thirty years, and they knew it. Poor kiddos, they are really are pretty affected by his choices.

I understand.

I felt pretty together when this happened to my mother. But, I know I have taken what happened to my parents’ marriage forward in my life. It is the number one reason I never wanted to marry. I didn’t really even want a relationship, I saw that women get really fucked over by selfish men. I thought I chose VERY carefully, a kind man, an honest man. Even my family are shocked at the way Roger has turned out.

I do have a relationship with my father, but I don’t love him. I don’t have any respect for him. I care about him, he’s my Dad. But I can’t condone the lies that he lived and told to do what he did all those years ago, or the choices he makes in his personal life now. He had choice, Mum had none. She, like me, did not have a choice to protect her sexual health. When the man you are committed to keeps sleeping with other women, and you have no idea, your health is put at serious risk.

My kids feel the same way. Roger is their father, and I think they love him. But, they don’t respect him, and they know he is a liar and a cheat, and that he is ultimately incredibly selfish. People who argue that cheating is not such a big deal should spend some time reflecting on what it does to the kids, let alone the betrayed spouse! Roger’s selfish choices, his lack of honesty, his hooking up with other women instead of confronting the issue, seeking counselling, asking for a separation, has let them down badly. They are deeply disappointed in him, and don’t trust him. Well, when you are untrustworthy….you reap what you sow, I guess. So damn sad. I desperately did not want my experience to be what my kids got to have as their reality, too. Rog has no idea, his parents were married once. Stayed together. He doesn’t get how much it fucks kids up, this whole lying and cheating palaver. You don’t know who to trust. And then you bloody well find “the one” and he turned out to be another liar and cheat! I am so angry at that, because I consciously chose someone who had been cheated on, who I thought would understand the pain and damage. I communicated about the importance of honesty. And look what happened anyway. I loved hard and truly, no cheating from me. But him? Multiple cheating. Nice. And he still constructs his own identity as a good guy, reliable, kind, loving. Ah-huh. Yeah, okay. Cool story, bro.

I was really shocked at his son calling him a cunt the other day. That is not a word we tend to bandy about in family situations! I mean, Roger uses it regularly, but I have never uttered it in front of my kids. I feel it is a strong description to outline to me his feelings about the man who fathered him. It made me feel a little sick. But, I understand his position, and the vehement way he expressed his feelings.

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So, hope the little one is okay, and that she at least gets a couple of nice meals out with her dad today! I am staying clear of her to give her space with him, but also because her sickness, along with my sick flatmate, with my low WBC, I just can’t afford to get sick. A low grade infection will wipe me out. Hand washing OCD, gobbling sacks of supplements and vitamins, trying damn hard not to think about just giving up and letting it all happen, letting nature take its course on the living-or-not front…..ugh.