Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum


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The myth of the sisterhood

One of the things that completely undoes me is how women treat each other. I guess my feminist is showing when in my naivety I think I kind of assumed that most decent, kind, loving, strong, independent women would ensure their choices and actions would not tear another woman down. I knew Leanne was none of those things. But hoped as a friend, she would act with some decency. Obviously I overestimated her.

Mostly, I overestimated him.

This time around, I thought he had met a kind and sweet woman. Someone who had had her heart broken. Her dreams shattered by a selfish, lying, cheating husband. And that she would recognise a fellow betrayed spouse and ensure that my wellbeing was protected. Or at least, that she would play no part in his hurting me more deeply than he already had. I thought she would empathise with the agony of discovering your love was lying and cheating. Again. And move to protect herself.

Alas, no. She seems completely hoodwinked by his version. A complete lie, and twisting of the facts. His charm and apparent sincerity regarding his intentions (and I believe he believes he will be faithful to her, even though he hasn’t been) is endearing. He comes across as earnest, funny, kind. He is easy to love. Until you realise that he (and I think this is just his lack of self awareness) is only in this love thing, for how it makes him feel. Yes, he likes making you happy. But not because, as I always thought, he is a sweet and kind man. But because he gets his hit from your reciprocation. Your adoration and desire to please.

After months of him denying any wrongdoing and blame shifting like a boss – you will laugh at this – he finally admitted two nights ago that what he did in having online dating profiles, texting dozens of women, meeting three, all while planning a new business venture with me and agreeing to wait until my Masters was completed to reassess our relationship, to give me the time and space I needed to heal myself before I could decide fully about our love story, was against what we agreed on. Didn’t go QUITE so far as to say out loud that he’d cheated again. But he conceded that I am correct, we HAD totally agreed to 100% honesty, openness, truth, no secrets, no dating other people, and to have a very obvious and truthful conversation if either of us thought we were done. He admitted FINALLY, that he did not do any of that, he kept secrets, all the while continuing to woo me, coax me into staying. Up until now, he has denied, denied, denied. And told several people that it is my fault he cheated. Because I doubted for about two years that whether what we had been through was survivable. I didn’t trust that he had learned not to be the secretive guy who didn’t tell the truth. I blogged about my doubts. My intense heartbreak. I told my (then) best mate this. And she, sadly, repeated it to many in our local town. These people now think I was not still trying to be all in in our love story. I needed to work my arse off and research my way to healing. It was a very difficult period. For both of us. But he lied. He kept pursuing me. I started to glimpse hope in leaving this place of pain, this farm that contributed to the ruination of a truly beautiful and fulfilling, intense and loving, passionate and exciting, relationship. And I kept trying to come back to him fully. I didn’t leave, because I absolutely love that man. Too much. It worked. I healed. I got to the place I was striving for, putting myself through hell to get there.

So, I know this is not Trinket’s fault. She was genuinely online, looking for love. But I really struggle with the agony she must know he is causing me, by rejecting me after everything I endured at his hands, and watching him tearing down all we built together. He is moving his whole life to a region he never considered living in until he met her and realised she would not move to/with him. In fact, he openly jeered at his new home region for decades (he is quite the fan now, though.) All this whilst his mother, who lives nearby, is dying. It is heartbreaking. Truly devastating. To put so much trust in such a man, with his proven record of cheating, lying and abandoning? Despite his love bombing apparent sweetness? I am just stunned. And yet, for some bizarre reason, I still totally LOVE this guy. WTF?

Oh, and get this, kids. I got severely chastised for being too nice by him the other night! “Stop doing that, you’re making me feel like an arsehole.” Um, what??? This was after he berated me for not reminding him it was Valentine’s Day. Yep. You read that right. I was supposed to remind him to buy another woman flowers perhaps? Silly me. He waited six months to sign a Separation Agreement. Finalising it on Valentine’s Day. I had pointedly asked him NOT to leave it until the last minute (for my property deal to go unconditional) as it was the 14th of February. The date did not register.

Welcome to your future, Trinket. Of forgotten birthdays, anniversaries, special dates.

He even asked our daughter a couple of months ago when she turned 21.

She is about to be 25.

FML. He sure is a treasure 😂.

Still no final deal on my new place. His lawyer lost the original paperwork we needed! WTAF?

In other news. I started seeing a shrink again a month ago. To get help in dealing with the grief and loss. She is great. And uses EMDR. She told me after the second session that it was completely up to me whether I felt I needed to come back. I did. And I left last night with her telling me I am doing exceptionally well under a particularly difficult set of circumstances. That my intense grief and still very deep love for him are not as insane as I feel they are. Instead are perfectly normal, and that I am working through this agony in a very admirable manner. We don’t think I need her anymore. But I know she is there if I need further guidance and reassurance.

Nearly there. ‘We’ are nearly there.

Thanks for bearing with me, my lovelies. Watch this space. I am stretching my wings, about to fly. Because that is my only choice.

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I walk away from you…

We are on the final countdown, just over a month. If he actually signs the Separation Agreement – the one he asked me to put on ice in October, which I (wrongly?) interpreted as him having doubts, he was admitting to conflicting emotions, and I was a sucker for the man I love actually loving me the way he had said he did for nearly thirty years – I will actually be able to BUY my place, ugh! So frustrating, he has secured his, and seems unconcerned that I am in limbo. That’s a surprise, right?

 

Very frustrating time. He has become a very grumpy and mean man in the past few months. Very, very unkind to me and the kids, I guess it is us holding him back from being with his new love full time??? I dunno, he was never like this before. He treats me like a child, and tells me pretty much every day that our demise is all my fault. Because, hey, he never cheated on my with my ‘friend’ in my homes, totally blowing my faith in him, and tainting my home spaces, right? He never kept in touch with her for another two years, and fucked her again two years later, totally vindicating my doubts about his intentions with me, right? He never told me lies about prostitutes he fucked, nor inappropriate ‘friendships’ he had with women, right? We are over, because I didn’t trust him again. Not because he was untrustworthy. Ugh, the mindfuck is epic. And you CANNOT win an argument with him. Ever. I try not to engage in any to start with!

It is a difficult place to have stayed, both because there is this very weird thing where I struggle to understand how he could say/believe/represent that he loved me so, so much. But also because all of our pain is place-based. This all started to go pear-shaped when he moved us, without consulting me sufficiently, to this farm. And I was so excited about my healing journey once he suggested we sell and start afresh somewhere new. A new place, a new business, a new start without the taint of Leanne and all that we lost in the fire of her at this farm. Then just dropped me when Ms PiscesGirl showed up. “No more love for you!” I understand him letting me go, I am the damaged goods, she has not been hurt by him, so is fresh and sparkly new. A clean slate. He can be sweet, kind, impress her with his rapier wit, lol. But him to have just stopped loving me? And instead loving someone else? Transference? It’s mind blowing, and INCREDIBLY painful. We used to be so damn great! I still feel the love for him. Even though I know it is (and ABSOLUTELY HAS TO BE) over. And that is why I am talking to another therapist, why have I become one of those losers who loves her abuser?

Why the hell did he hold onto me so hard? Why did he refuse to give up when I thought we needed to be done? When he was still in our bed, never letting my body go, holding, stroking, making love to me, when I thought we should have separate ones. When I was struggling with his need for my body to comfort him, when I was also hurting, and needing some space? Why did I feel I owed him reconciliation? Even he admits that not letting me go when I thought we were done was cruel. It’s like he got to play all the cards, every damn time. Cheat. Check. Lie. Check. Don’t disclose you are dating when I made it abundantly clear that that was an absolute bottom line. (Be fucking honest!) Cheat some more. Paula, just forgive this will you, you NEED to forgive me. I made a mistake. Okay, I tried really hard, and every time, he let me down again. Fucked someone else. Told more lies. Joined online dating sites. He has carefully curated the people that he has introduced to K. Making sure he is seen in the best possible light. His best mate, H, who is married to a cheater, who will be loyal to him, and believes his lies. His two sisters, who were estranged from us for eleven years, due to his choice to sell the family farm (breaking my heart, but I stayed loyal to him, even though I missed them badly) and who have no idea about the extent of his cheating. His overseas based mate, who is dying, who also has no idea about the cheating, and how hard we worked to try to heal from that. He did not look hard at who he is, and why he does the things he does, instead of talking to the woman who has loved him and believed in him, truly, madly, deeply for thirty years, and working out a better way. “I have met someone else. Sorry, you don’t get a choice in ANY of this, it is all my way. I get to choose where we live. I get to choose what we invest our money in. I get to cheat. I get to leave you when you are healed. You just have to take what I decide. You have no say, sorry ’bout that. But, you’re a strong woman, you’ll be okay. Just go online and meet another guy.”

He does not understand that my past means I am both completely sexually frustrated, and yet TERRIFIED of another man touching me. He tells me to just go out and get laid. But in the same breath, says he HATED seeing me dancing with another man at a function we both attended the other night, I mean, COME ON!!! I have watched him messaging another woman for six months, drive down hours to spend days on end in her bed, known, visualised their naked, sweaty bodies, as he bedded her in MY HOME! No hypocrisy whatsoever. I have NEVER been attracted to another man since I met him. And we are pretty old now, lol. They are all dented and bruised. (As am I!) I don’t feel like I should have to deal with another woman’s hand-me-down. Sorry, that sounds bad, but I just don’t need that kind of complication in my life right now, if ever. I don’t feel the need to have a partner, just to avoid being lonely, and not adored by someone.  Unlike him, I feel it is healthiest to have some alone time, to get to be me again, not his partner, not someone’s mother, not his sober driver/cook/maid/bill payer/secretary/nurse/etc. He just can’t be alone. He has to be constantly in touch with her. He is still that needy little boy whose mummy was not always available to him for love, due to her depression. As we learned early on in therapy, I had a secure attachment style, and he has an anxious attachment style, clinging on wherever he can. It is sad, and I feel for him, not easy being clingy and needy when the person you are looking to is hurting and unsure. The thing is, it is nice to feel needed most of the time. His attention is flattering, feels loving. But it is ultimately a manipulation to make HIM feel good, never about reciprocation really. He tells himself he is kind and loving, but that is only so long as he is getting the hit he needs, of his partner’s attention and adoration. These things I have learned along the way.

So, this old tune resonates so clearly now…

You came out of the world to me
My life parted like the red sea
We flowed easy between the rocks and stones
never seemed to stop us
The years ended in confusion
Don’t ask me I don’t know what happened
but I am a man with a mission
Must be the devil I don’t know
Finally, marching to a different tune
It’s hard to let go
Of all that we know
As I walk away from you
The sun always sets
No room for regret
As I walk away from you
Reveal whatever you desire
To you it may be death defying
Your life, slave to ambition
Tension your permanent condition
So much you’ve always wanted
Too much giving you a sore head
Finally marching to a different tune (That’s right)
As I walk away from you
As I walk away from you
It’s hard to let go
Of all


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Justice

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It is a weird world when the person who has been wronged is villainised. Especially by someone who really should know better after bitter life experience.

My previous post was shared by a reader with K. Hence me privatising my blog again, I don’t want Roger to be be shown it. You know what happened? She indicated that she thinks I am a liar. No worries about the fact that as a former betrayed wife, he started a relationship with her, lying that he was single, no worries that he was involved in a domestic violence episode with me, no worries that he is reputedly talking to other women online, no worries that he has still been sexually active with me. Umm, I am flummoxed? A former betrayed wife, who believes the cheater. I have blocked her on all means she might have of contacting me now. I imagine she has done the same to me. She was not able to receive the message. You can lead a horse to water…

So, of course, the sensible thing is to just keep moving, which I am trying very hard to focus on. I have made my first ever massage appointment, which isn’t for a while – they were very booked up – and decided to go back to counselling. I have made an appointment to talk about loss and grief, and how to learn to manage my pain levels better. This is a very embodied pain. My whole being aches. Bodily aches, very, very sore all over.

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Thanks. (But don’t do that.)

I have been prompted by a few friends to post again. I’m not really feeling it. So bear with me, please.

I made the blog private. Then reopened it today, feeling the ‘risk of exposure’ period is now over? Because some do-gooder sent K an email! And linked my last post. Gah!!! Why? Why expose my journaling of thoughts to her? I never saw the email. But Rog says it was a complete takedown of him. Thank you for the loyalty, whoever you are, but PLEASE! Don’t do that. It doesn’t help anyone.

The thing is, this woman knows he is a more-than-one-time cheater already. That he was not separated while he looked online for women. And seems to accept that as okay for her future. That is her choice. Pointing out to her that this is what he does, these are identified behaviours, is just repeating what she has already absorbed and ignored as not relevant to her. Their love is special. Hmmmm. Been there.  We were ‘special’ too 😉.

Update on me. We sold the farm in December. For March settlement. I bought a property the same day. I am trying really, really hard to be positive and excited. But I’m not. I am ridiculously, completely devastated still. And mad as hell at myself for this. I did not feel like this in 2016, when I started to think that leaving might be the best way to heal. He wouldn’t let me go. So I tried again. Harder. And finally got over the line. Felt sure I could trust him again, and the love flooded my being fully again. I felt whole again at last. Such a huge relief. But he had been searching online for 10 months when he told me he had met someone else! 10 months. Of further lies and keeping me on the hook, as he sent tens of thousands of texts to women and met a handful in person. I constantly ask why? Of course he needed a backup plan. If no one took the online bait. I needed to be second choice. While I was working hard to come back to him, he had his fishing rod, baited, hanging out the other side of the boat.

The thing is, he has issues. Don’t we all? But his were clearly identified by respected psychologists, and he chose not to do the work on himself. Instead he found a willing target to impress. Rog is really flattering. Sweet. Appears to be kind and caring. But, he isn’t. He uses these tools to captivate and charm. To manipulate YOU to feel you have chosen what HE wants. Very cunning. I feel so, so sad that l was duped. I believed him. I loved him. And worse! I still do. I don’t know why anymore? Must be far more codependent than I ever realised. Not a nice thing to recognise about yourself. But hopefully fixable. I’ve never been scared to be alone. But I really, really miss who I thought he was. I miss my best, best mate. I miss being touched. Kissed. Passionately. Lovingly.

So. Going forward. I have almost secured a nice property, with 9 acres and an Airbnb potential space. My kids are wonderful. Supportive and eyes wide open. I am very careful about how I speak to them. I have asked them all to please accept her. She is a lovely, warm woman as far as I can tell. Her only crime is believing a very accomplished liar. None want to meet her yet. One has. By mistake. And he doesn’t want to see her again yet. I think that is kinda sad, but says something about their take on their father’s multiple cheating.

We had a very quiet and calm Christmas break in the South Island, with my brother and his family. Meanwhile, Roger’s sweeter sister sent me photos during the day of Christmas with their daughters and grandson at my house. Very kind.

I lost our best couple friends. Well, honestly? She has never been a friend of mine. Is a real maggot, in fact. Second (ex-cheating) wife of Roger’s oldest mate. They were both busy befriending K almost before I even knew she existed! They believe Roger’s story that we were separated, and there is good reason for them to do so, because I thought we were heading that way a year earlier, but I healed, and never said much to people, until I was SURE I was/we were gonna be okay. I had clearly told Roger that we needed to wait until my Masters was completed, as I was feeling a shift, and we could sit down and discuss whether we both wanted to stay together or whether the damage was too great. It was clearly outlined that this MUST be communicated about, that is HAD to be a mutual decision, that one of us could not just pull the pin without talking to the other one. I told him constantly that I still loved him. But, H and his maggoty wife just believe Roger’s new version he touts, that we were done. I must have missed that memo. Such huge disloyalty after 30 years of close friendship. No loss. But it hurt nevertheless. I recently discovered H (the husband, whose first wife cheated on him and left, whom I supported fiercely throughout that difficult period in his life) had lied to me about Roger’s affair with Leanne years ago. I asked him if anything was going on. He looked shocked and said he would investigate for me. Came back the next day and said, “no. No way.” Now admits Roger did not admit outright to an affair (which by that stage was well over a year in duration) but that he admitted to inappropriate behaviour. Nice. Thanks H. Great job helping a loyal friend. Dickhead. As I said. Who needs friends like those?

But, on the upside, several genuine friends have been incredibly supportive. A good friend in the town where I have bought my new place. My Mum’s bestie cooks me dinner every Monday night. And we try to laugh.  I found out yesterday that the partner of Roger’s other best mate, apparently can’t stand Roger anymore. Hated what he did to me with Leanne. But tolerated him because she likes me. I caught up with them recently. She was gushing about my new place. She never gushes. The wife and first wife of H’s two brothers! Stunning women, both of them. Furious. Disgusted. Outraged at Roger’s lies. I am so thankful for these wonderful, genuine friends who have not bought his bullshit story. And continue to help me hold myself together through the most intensely painful period thus far.

And blogging friends, CK and owlie. Thanks. There are not the words xxx.

And that my friends, is about all I can manage today. I think I will come back here again. But the wounds are very fresh and very painful. Lots of shock and trauma still. Which has been completely unexpected. I thought another episode of cheating and lying would sever any good feelings about him. And that has not occurred yet. I must be some kind of special idiot!

All the best to those healing and rebuilding as we head into yet another year 😙


67 Comments

The end of the story

I don’t even know how to start this post. I wasn’t going to blog about it, because I am still processing, and the pain is very fresh again.

Firstly, Roger’s affair notwithstanding, I have made some terrible mistakes on this journey since D-day. I know I am not the only one, and I mostly understand and forgive myself for being human, traumatised and trying to get help to negotiate the stormy waters of intensely emotional times. It has been over eight years. It has been very tough. Way tougher than even I imagined when I read those words on my phone that shifted my whole world on its axis.

As I said, I am not sure about the order that this will spill out of me. But, I will try to get it out here.

As I was finishing up, pushing for the finish line for my Masters thesis, it was hard. Harder than I expected. The intensity of the emotions that I was researching, the place-based emotionality of my participants, I started to notice a change in me. I wasn’t sure about it, I was feeling very stressed as I rubbed up against the submission date, and was not quite happy with what I had written – I had to go a week over – which is allowed, with no penalty, as long as you apply in time. But, the Type A personality I am, I was disappointed. But, I got it in two weeks before the extension deadline. Phew!!! And, I slowly started to understand the feeling. It wasn’t euphoria, it wasn’t relief, I started to come to the realisation that is was healing. The process of researching home as a place of heartbreak and rebirth had been cathartic! Still, I didn’t trust myself fully. So, I took myself off to Wellington, to spend a few days with my eldest daughter. International Film Festival time. We spoiled ourselves, ate out, and saw several beautiful films. Then, I came home, knowing that the talk I have talked for the past two or three years – that I was strong, and was never going to stay with a cheater – was largely bravado. I loved this man. I had written these words in my thesis acknowledgements, in the last week before I submitted it, knowing that I still loved him as deeply as I ever had, that we had been through the fire, and with hope (HOPE!!!! FINALLY!!!) that we could go forward together, and that I was finally ready to put the past where it was healthiest, to the side, not front and centre every day:

“To Roger, my love of 29 years, for the decades of intense love before and despite huge challenge, and a very difficult recent journey, you are the love of my life, and I totally adore you.”

I arrived back from Wellington a fortnight ago. It was early afternoon, and Rog was home. I made us a cup of tea, and asked him if he had a minute to talk. He said, yes, of course. We sat at the dining table, and I looked directly at him, nervous as all hell. I said, “I have made a HUGE mistake. I totally adore you, love you truly, madly, deeply, always have, and now know I have the desire and enough information to fully re-commit to us. I don’t want us to split up.”

After years and years of him pursuing me relentlessly, I guess I had assumed that this would be the moment. The music would swell, and we would be carried off on a cloud of passion and forgiveness! (DJ scratches the record….) He looked sadly at me, and said, “I’ve met someone else.”

My heart broke again folks. Loudly and completely. I thought I could never feel the pain I felt after D-day. I was wrong. The thing is, I do not blame myself here, I needed eight years, an undergraduate degree and to spend 18 months of my life learning and researching, in a totally navel-gazing manner, to heal my wounds. And I missed the timing. By three weeks. I did not fit Roger’s timeline – and I know that is crappy of him.

You see, the thing is, I did push him away. For the greater part of three years I have been holding him at arm’s length, determined to protect myself, maybe to teach him a lesson? But mostly to try to release him from the pain that was ruining MY life, and by osmosis, not doing him a huge favour, either. I thought it was best to let him go. I always knew I still loved him though, and I did tell him this. The other thing is this – we had agreed not to involve a third party until we physically separated, and this would be hard on the person who was not involved – the non-loved up one. (Oh shit, I can feel the pain seeping from my feet upwards right now, as I type this out.) I even said to him, on several occasions, please let me know if you think this is not gonna work for you – literally grab me by the shoulders and say it to my face – as I am pretty distracted and encompassed by this research. He says he did. He did not. I found two charges this year on his credit card for dating sites since February this year. I immediately asked him if he wasn’t coping, and did we need to find alternative living arrangements. He said that he got lonely, but that the sites were awful, and he had cancelled his subscription quickly both times. He lied. Not that he had cancelled, but he has been chatting to women for most of this year. I asked to be informed about this, and he did not tell me. I was naive, and I took him at his word – he was lonely. I could see that. But he never said, “I am talking to other women, and I think we are over.” Instead, I asked him to PLEASE wait until my Masters was done, and we could reassess where we were at, and start to make some permanent decisions, kindly and mutually.

My deadline was the 23rd of July. I handed in in on the 31st. I have now gone through his phone records – remember “my” technophobe partner, the one who never had a social media presence, and didn’t use his phone for much except business? Well, I knew he had opened a Facebook account relatively recently – we are friends there – it made sense, he has three young adult children, he communicates with them via Messenger. Well, he finally got a 51 year old widowed mother of three to give him her phone number. He sent her 1256 text messages between 8th July and 10th August. And I know they mostly communicate via Messenger now. The thing that gets me is, I have talked to this woman, she seems very nice. A suburban mum, whose husband was an unrepentant serial cheater, and died 5 years ago of prostate cancer. So, WTF is she doing with a man who admitted that he had cheated, and was still living with his partner??? I had some communication with her, she lives about four hours drive from here. She seems lovely. A kind and sweet woman. But WTF lady??? I know what is happening here. He is doing his usual – love bombing her, rescuing a woman who has never really known love and kindness, and she has NEVER had someone give her their full attention – this is flattery at its finest. He has met with her five times since the 8th of July, and Thursdays are now their designated “date nights.” He was to drive down there last week, but she got cold feet at the last minute. They apparently have not yet had sex – as she has been (rightly!) cautious. But, tomorrow is the night, folks! Hold onto your horses, lol. She has admitted to him that she has only had one sexual experience since her husband died – and that it was a disaster, she got all nervous and dry mouthed. Again, WTF? Roger is a highly sexual man. So, let’s just see how this pans out. Probably really well, he doesn’t have to beat much, and he is seriously good in bed! She won’t know what hit her 😉

My point is this. I am still living here, on the advice of my lawyer (and I did look at rental properties, and felt incredibly depressed about the worn and sad nature of what I could afford – actually I couldn’t even afford those!) I like my home. I am warm, safe, and myself here. And I have let him go. Or am certainly in the process of doing so. I can see that he never really fully did the work required on himself, to heal the needy little boy. We had agreed to have some single time if we were done – to not try to Band-Aid over the hurts with another body. He could not do it. He is getting all the highs of a long-distance relationship, all the ego stroking, all the warm fuzzies. I can see him messaging her via Messenger – it is all day long, and half into the night. We get on well, and I am strong. I got some anti-anxiety meds from my doc, and they have helped me deal with this. I have a few weeks to gather myself before I start back at work fulltime. I am out running and walking every day – doing a lot in the bush, and feeling better about my body. I have planned to do a four day walk in the South Island next month, and that is good motivation to get fit again. I haven’t eaten more than about five bites in a fortnight, but feel strong, and I think my appetite is slowly returning. Tonight, I have my first mindfulness and guided meditation meeting, the group meets fortnightly (thank you BE and CK!) I KNOW that I need to move on, away from this man. But fuck, my mind is a LONG way ahead of my heart here. I am ashamed (but not really, I knew what I was doing) to admit that we have had sex five times – after promising each other that we ABSOLUTELY wouldn’t! I even promised K – the OW – that I wouldn’t. I fucking lied, but I meant it at the time – an insight into the mind of a cheater?  The sex was unbelievably amazing, I came and came and came – wetly and profusely. Probably hysterical bonding, but I am BACKKKKK baby! OMG am I back? My libido is through the roof – yep, definitely hysterical bonding, but I am so glad that my sexuality is not dead, no way, I have ordered new toys, and am going to enjoy myself – by myself.

I guess my fucked up point here is that I know that I have made mistakes – I tried to push him away for him, and should have concentrated on my own healing, I have had sex with a man who is not good for me, and I had sex with him again, And again. And again, And it won’t happen again! I tried to point out, gently, without begging (gah, I am NOT that fucking desperate) that I had healed, finally, had my moment of clarity, and he was now willing to throw away what has been a truly wonderful partnership – we are so compatible in so many ways. We both love music, travel, adventure, the arts, the outdoors, SEX, oh my God, GREAT FUCKING LOUD IN YOUR FACE SEX, we are both a bit quirky, have an ‘off’ sense of humour. We have a lifetime of love and yes, truly terrible heartache. We had three children and four miscarriages together, wonderful home births, with beautiful babymoons, worked side-by-side, in love, enjoying each other. We LOVE the smell of each other. He says he hasn’t noticed her fragrance, or her natural scent – that is off for me, this man loves to deeply inhale me. So, he prefers the high of a new fling, with a lovely-but-boring suburban mum, whose scintillating online dating profile  – yeah, I looked her up – used her star sign as her username (groan), and outlines that she likes the simple things; to go for coffee and maybe a movie (in her mum jeans  – she has not yet dressed up for any of their dates, including a dinner out at a nice restaurant, where I ironed his shirt, cut his hair, bought him my favourite fragrance and tucked condoms into his pocket – I didn’t have to, but this is who I am, and who “we” have been.) ‘We’ have since found out that she is scared of flying, has admitted she is worried about sex, told him she will need a few wines on board before she can contemplate it, and is honestly fairly plain looking (not that that matters a jot.) He has “known” her for six weeks now. So, if it is that easy to be cast aside, I am not going to (nor am I able to!) compete – I don’t play that game. But, all my knowledge and self-esteem aside, this hurts like a MOTHERFUCKER! Why, oh why, did I do all that work on myself, to FINALLY decide that I could recommit to him? FAAAAARRRRRRKKKKKK!

The thing is now, I have had my solicitor draw up a separation agreement. I got the first draft yesterday, and although I have been mostly positive and accepting, I did plunge a little low when I got it. I am painting my bedroom, and ensuite, and keeping as chipper as possible. But, as I pointed out kindly to Rog last night, we are separating, and it is incredibly, incredibly painful. But, he has the support and loved-upness of his new “thing” making him feel amazing, and I am alone. No family, and very little in the way of support. I do have two friends who I can verbally vomit on, and they are wonderful, but one lives in Sydney, the other is closer, and I went to hers the other night for cups of herbal tea. My previous lifetime BFF, J, whom I have mentioned before on this blog, knows – including that I had got to the place of acceptance and felt good about moving forward together with a previous cheater – and has not said one, single comforting word to me. Instead, she sent Roger a supportive message, basically high-fiving him for finding new love. He was truly disgusted at her disloyalty, and has not replied. I know I have to keep walking – away – from this. But, it will take my emotions a while to catch up fully again.

Oh – and this – apparently I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about K – I asked why? Why are you ashamed? He said he didn’t want to look like he was cheating again. Oh, um, then don’t cheat. I told our kids, kindly, and my eldest daughter is pretty flabbergasted. Can’t believe his lack of introspection. If you are in a relationship you are ashamed of, you shouldn’t be in it. My mother’s first rule of dating.

I know this tale is pathetic. I know my telling doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense – why did I buy back in – too late? But, this is my Greek tragedy of a life, playing out in HD somewhere near me – at least I think I am me? Who fucking knows anymore?


45 Comments

It was just the one…

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS FABULOUSLY BAD LANGUAGE! BUCKLE UP BITCHES!!!

 

Had this totally awesome conversation this morning. We’ll get to that later…

Lawyered up. Because Rog is making weird noises about ‘the first million is his.’ Um. We haven’t properly discussed staying together or separating yet? It made me nervous. Is there something he isn’t telling me? So, I went and saw the guy I saw first the month after D-day, who advised me how to set up our ‘post-nup’ – which is a misnomer when there were never any nuptials! But he was kind then, and showed me what I needed to get in place legally regarding how our assets and businesses were set up. It empowered me then, and it set in place things that I had been querying for decades, ie, why was I excluded from most of the legal documents that were Relationship Property? I mean, I knew that after three years of cohabitation, I was ostensibly protected by law, but when there are Family Trusts in place, and you are neither a Trustee, nor a beneficiary, that can cause some chaos in splitting up, as the assets are no longer owned by ourselves, but a totally separate entity! Luckily for me, the Trust was formed after we had already been together ten years, and had two kids. This lawyer also gave sensible advice to my siblings and myself after we discovered that our stepfather had spent most of our inheritance from our mother’s estate. A real shock for me, as Executor of her Will. I trust him. I came away from yesterday’s meeting feeling a bit better about a few nasty things that have gone on here lately.

Anyway, this was a big week. The Masters thesis was submitted on Monday, and the weirdness of getting up in the morning without that cloud of doom hanging over me constant work that has been a 24/7 thing for the last twelve months, and letting that baby go, was … weird.

And a relief.

Anyway, back to the morning conversation. Roger has pulled so far away the past two months, and I understand, he seems to need to move on, and protect his heart. Basically, he is over the whole thing. Nice, eh? He said to me about three weeks ago, “I don’t feel guilty anymore.” Hmmm. That’s nice, isn’t it? I don’t even understand that. I mean, I don’t want him to go around like a beaten dog for the rest of his life, but to exonerate yourself? I can’t even imagine how that could happen? I would think you still feel bad, but you just build and improve who you are? Anyway, I just remained quiet. What’s the damn point in challenging that? There is none. Great, good for you, you feel fine now. Excellent.

I am so infrequently posting now, I can’t recall entirely if I have shared that Roger’s mother is terminally ill, and this has created an opportunity for the three siblings to repair the damaged bonds between them. His sisters are now speaking to him again, and there have been some healing conversations. But neither of them have reached out to me, as yet, so I have kept my distance. His eldest sister used to be a really good friend of mine, or so I thought. I used to work for her, and I supported her through a nasty divorce. It turns out, she used to pump me for information, and then use it against me. I ain’t got time for that shit! She is a reasonably heavy drinker. She married a guy who started as an affair, he had a wife and child, and she was fucking him. He was her boss. Surprise, surprise, he was also fucking around on her later on. Two kids together, and she kicked him out after seven years together. The kids were barely 3 and 1. She is known to sleep with married men. After being cheated on, she happily does it to other women. Yes, this is the sister of ‘my’ (disclaimer: he’s not mine) cheater. Who knew, right? Sigh.

Anyway, the word has got out around town that we are separating. And she rang him at 11.30pm the other night, to ‘chat’. As he says, “she was pissed.” (Kiwi for drunk.) Her concern for Roger, “are you okay? Can I help? What is going to happen?” Never one question about, is Paula okay? Are your children okay? (This woman has had nothing to do with our kids, her nieces and nephew, for eleven years. After our five kids all used to hang out together pretty much every day until the farm sale …) And then this, he refused to tell me at first, but I coaxed it out of him, “it will just upset you.” She said to him, “what’s her fucking problem, it was just the one!” It was never one. There are others. Not many know that. And the ‘one’ was a 15 month affair where he wanted to leave me and be with her. In my homes. On my property. While I was in the same house! Yep. Just the one. How unreasonable of me.

Because, apparently, her ex-husband’s 20 or so mostly one-night-stands (he was probably a sex addict, in retrospect) – when they had been together just a handful of years, was FAR worse than the love of my life, Roger’s, ‘one’ (ummm, there are others) deep, wanted-to-leave-me-for-her sexual affair of over 15 months, longer emotionally, in-my-homes-pretending-she-was-my-friend-going-on-holiday-with-me, his-telling-me-on-the-three-times-I-asked-and-I-totally-took-the-bait-that-no-there-was-definitely-nothing-going-on, giving-me-lifelong-diseases, fucking-with-my-already-teetering-mental-health-about-rape-sex-and-relationships, was just a silly, piffling thing. What a loser Paula is, right? Another one. Get. Over. It. Bitch.

And he never defended me. He doesn’t want to look any worse. If people knew the extent of the mindfuckery …

You know, when you look up the word ‘cunt’ in the dictionary, there is a picture of her, right?

And that, my friends, is why I will NEVER reconnect with her. She is fucked in the head, and judgemental as FUCK!!!

 

 


22 Comments

16 May 2009

A day like any other, right?

The popular press was focused on people like Eva Longoria. Do we even remember her? Swine ‘flu was front and centre of many people’s worries. Rachel Alexandra  won the Preakness, the first filly in 85 years to do so. British retailers were up in arms about Manic Street Preacher’s latest album cover art. Here in Aotearoa New Zealand, the pressing governmental issues of the day … ohh Gawd, hey, it was a Saturday – was one of our long-term MPs, addressing a dental health conference! Hahahaha! Not doing much for the cause of us being a vibrant, and global nation ;-).

Yes, it has actually been EIGHT years since my life imploded. The OW, Leanne, a woman I once considered a friend, someone I had known since middle school years, sent me a text, at 8.57pm, whilst I was attending a 40th birthday party that she was also supposed to be attending. The text outlined that she had been sleeping with my most beloved partner, Roger. There was little in the way of detail, I didn’t keep the text, and cannot recall the exact wording.

I went back to the party, and carried on with the evening. Smiling, dancing, completely numb inside. Then drove the half-drunk Roger home in the wee, small hours. When we were about ten minutes from home, I leaned over with my phone, and showed him the text. He was completely bereft. Head in hands, he eventually looked up, as I drove into the darkness, and said, “I will pack a bag when we get home, and get out of your life. I am incredibly sorry, so, so sorry.” I think I actually floated away somewhere far, far, away. I don’t know if I have ever come back entirely.

Time.

Time does blur things, fading the edges of memory. But it has never fully eradicated the pain I still feel, not the “two to five years” later when I was supposed to feel a lot better, get my life back.

It is eight years. Eight pain-filled and unnecessary years. There isn’t a lot to add. I just wanted to mark the day somehow, as it passes by in every other sense.

The first ‘online’ person I ‘met’ – a woman who is different to me in so many ways, a US-Southern Baptist, 50+ year old, home-schooling SAHM, who voted for Trump – we couldn’t be politically, ideologically, etc, further apart – is still someone I ‘chat’ with regularly. Who knew? Six and a half years after her D-day, she is filing for divorce. He didn’t do the work, he is an passive aggressive, narcissistic arsehole, and she is (reluctantly) divorcing him. Finally. She has been through the mill. She messaged me today, to reiterate that cheating is a “life sentence” – her words.

I am currently seeing a lot of emotional exhaustion in the blogging community. People who are now three plus years out from D-day. The hope is fading. The magic pill of time is not making things any better for most.

I know that feeling well. I think there is a LOT of detritus bandied about – by counsellors, churches, people hawking self-help books, the general public – about being able to build a ‘new,’ ‘better’ version of marriage/partnership. That infidelity is actually an OPPORTUNITY! Lucky you!

The truth is, it sucks. And it will always suck. For the rest of your life, it will suck in some way, together, or apart. If I heal – and I kbow I am – there will always be an ugly scar.

And that, my sweets, is my take-home lesson from eight years of the pain of ‘surviving’ infidelity, together, or apart, it makes no difference.

‘Happy’ antiversary to me!


40 Comments

This is us

Feeling the pull to write a little about how things are in my life right now. Nothing groundbreaking, just a brief update, to spill it outside of the containment that is me these days.

As you all know, Roger and I are on track to re-evaluate ‘us’ after I hand in my thesis in late July. Will we stay together, or will it be the end? I can’t say for sure either way at the moment. This does not mean that we hate each other, or that life is unpleasant. We love each other, and work our hardest to be kind to and caring of each other. But I am aware that this is a very difficult time for Rog. He struggles. And I ain’t finding it a bunch of fluffies either.

The thing is, I don’t know how to trust anymore. Anyone. I haven’t been able to convince my brain to allow vulnerability. So, of course, after about five years of thinking I could trick me into trust and vulnerability with a very remorseful man who did a lot of things that ‘should’ have made it okay for me to trust again, I had to pull away. But he also, admitted later when he could see with clearer hindsight, did a couple of things that maybe made things a lot harder than they needed to be. I am speaking of his refusal to change his phone number (their affair was entirely enabled by text and phone calls alone, he was not on social media, and he never gave her his or our email address(es).) So, he was still getting texts, and occasionally replying, for two years after D-day. He admits that was stupid, and that I was right in pretty much begging him to change his number, as that would starve the maggot of oxygen. Huge regret of his. He also, as many of you know, fucked her again at the two year mark. If you read waay back, you know my feelings about that. Whilst I understand that he was trying to figure out why he had thrown away his good life for a person he was pretty sure he didn’t even really like, it probably wasn’t helpful. To anyone. Even her. Yep. I loathe that woman, but even I don’t think fucking her again was a nice thing for him to do to her. But I do, nevertheless, understand his thought process. I know he went to her to ‘discuss’ the whys and wherefores, the sex, to me, was just his … patheticness … I guess. I now know how ruled he is by sex. I never really got it before all of this. We had a busy and fulfilling sex life together, so I never got the message that he feels incomplete without sex in his life. I think that is just sad. That you would prostrate yourself for bad sex – his words. He now understands this about himself, too. That he is needy, and it doesn’t make him feel very good about himself. But, in all of this, I have become somewhat sexless. And he says it’s better that being sexually needy. I beg to differ. I don’t think there is a winner here. I don’t think, in this sexualised world, that ANYONE ever feels good about themselves if they have become sexless. I wouldn’t admit this in real life, I would be judged, and made to feel a prude/boring/stuffy. I am none of those things, and I miss sex like crazy. But I just don’t feel sexy. In any way. Even self love, and I used to be good at that shit, lol! Bah, enough about my embarrassing ‘problem’ with sex.

Well, the latest thing that created some more distance between us is this. Roger still sleeps with me. Which is fine, but that I am not a sexual being anymore, so he needs to be aware I struggle at the moment. He seemed to be coping with that. We would cuddle and talk, and that was that. One of the things we have discussed ad nauseum, is that I know he ‘needs’ emotional and sexual closeness, and that I can’t really provide that at the moment. I hate it. It isn’t who I think I am at my core. But, I have worked damn hard to survive this, to be as intact as I can be after he blew the old me up, used and abused.  I had to build some walls, as the old me had none, and it nearly fucking killed me that he treated me the way he did, and made me physically and mentally ill. I don’t know how to dismantle these walls. I am torn. To let them down might mean I can feel something good again, but I was 100% vulnerable and loving and where did it get me? I don’t think I can survive this again. So, yeah, it sounds stupid, but I can’t let them down, or not for long.

I thought we had communication nailed now. That we are open and honest. We talk. Still a lot. About life, about the future, about us, about not us. And I made it clear that I understand he has needs, and that living in the same house makes that a difficult thing, in many ways, but that if he wants to get laid, that he just has to be honest, and let me know. I don’t think that is abnormal, and I also don’t think it is a lot to ask, to discuss these things. It’s not like I am asking him to ask my permission. I just want to know if we need to change the living arrangements. So, I was doing a tax return the other day, and noted that he had a credit card charge to a dating site. He had told me that he had joined this site, and chatted with a couple of women. But that he decided it wasn’t for him (he had never done this kind of thing before) and so he had resigned from the site. Okay, I got that. We had another conversation about this, if he was feeling this lonely, that we needed to find another way of being. He said it was fine, that he was coping again, but that sometimes the sadness of losing me was just overwhelming. Promises were made to ensure communication was maintained. I just don’t wanna be piggy in the middle. I also don’t think it is fair to another woman, if she finds she likes him, to see me still living in this house! Back to the new credit card charges. I was angry. Not furious and filled with fire. Just sadly angry. He hadn’t talked to me, he had just paid this dating site. Of course I approached him and said we needed to talk. The charges were from three months ago, and he said he had forgotten about them, and I could see he was a bit embarrassed. He hates being this pathetic, he sees the dating apps as a bit sad, too. I just calmly said that I thought it was really disrespectful, mostly of me, that he would sleep in my bed, and in all honesty, we still have sex, when he was talking to any other women. I felt revolted and used, and I calmly expressed this. He seemed very sad and to understand.

I just don’t get it. Why would he even put me in that position when he knows the damage he has done? I know it is desperation. He does get very desperate about our situation, it isn’t a healthy one, I get it. But why, after all he has learned these past few years, would he not talk to me? Tell me we needed to find alternative accommodation? Sigh, it just felt like I was on a treadmill, and that we were back to teaching him about boundaries and other people’s feelings being just as important as his. Affair Lessons 101 stuff. Do some people, even those who seem to get it, seem to understand the damage, seem to want to change, never fully get it? All this stuff that is so innate to me? I mean, we have a quote pinned up in his maimai, one that he chose, about twenty-something years ago. One of the things in it is to be careful with other people’s hearts.

And yeah, it isn’t fair to either of us. And yeah, we both miss each other like hell. But you’ve gotta be realistic. He just can’t cope with the contact that is never enough. And I miss the old him, the one I adored, that lovely guy I had created in my head for those first decades, the one who obviously never existed.

FML.

I’m okay, much better than if I had let him back into my heart fully, but I just feel stupid again. That I somehow almost believed that he had learnt all he needed to about how to treat other people. This is not an inherently stupid, or callous man. I honestly felt he was the most emotionally intelligent man I had ever met, once upon a time. And in many ways he is. But there seems to be an override button, and he STILL has trouble not pressing it when under pressure.


7 Comments

An ode to crap dads

I know, I know. I think I might actually be moving forward, nearly eight years after D-day. No posts for well over a month.

Jesus. Is that some kind of record? The eight year thing.

But anyhoo. I’m back. Just popped in to say hey, and spread my joy ;-).

Update: I have had a pretty intense month, I guess. Firstly, my blogging friend, and maybe yours, CrazyKat, came Down Under with her husband, BE. They’re still here actually, but cruising around our isles at the moment. We had the pleasure of their company for four whole days. How lucky am I? Just before they arrived, my sister-in-law (ex) was driving my nieces to school one morning, and tragically had a head-on with a truck, and sadly she did not survive, but was taken to the nearest large city and kept on life support for 36 hours, as she was an organ donor. My two little nieces are relatively unscathed, but their father, my brother (the one I don’t get on with) flew from the other side of the world, where he lives with his new wife, immediately. He has promised the girls’ grandparents that he will not take the girls out of the country. This means he has effectively ended his marriage, as his wife refuses to move here. (We’ll see. Her bottom line constantly shifts!) So, he is at my father’s house, on the job hunt at present.

The week after that sadness, another niece was getting married, in a neighbouring country. My eldest, S, and I flew over, and stayed at my lovely sister, E’s house. So did my Dad.

Now. About my Dad. He’s is a bit special. To say the least. He is depressing and depressed, revels in playing the pathetic old man lately (even though he is a perfectly healthy and capable 73 year old) and loves to speak without engaging his brain. Ugh. Mostly it was okay, but S and I escaped a few times without him, as sometimes I just wanna punch him!

I will illustrate with a couple of gems from the four days we had together – three of which we mostly escaped his special kind of … stupid.

We were at the wedding, and in Australia, gay marriage is still not legal. So, they went through the traditional vows, about the legal status of marriage as between a man and a woman, and then my niece and her new husband added that they couldn’t wait until marriage was a right for all. Love is love. So, at the reception, the table seating goes – sister, me, daughter, two friends of E’s, uncle (my mother’s brother), and his lovely wife, then Dad. My GAY Dad pipes up with, “I don’t agree with gay marriage anyway.” FML. I just stared at him, full in the eye, mine about rolling back in my damn head, and said, “well, don’t worry, no one anywhere in the world has made it compulsory, yet, Dad.” My aunt about pissed her pants, and said, “what about people who have been committed to each other for maybe 30 or 40 years, and their significant other is not allowed in a hospital room, to make health/funeral decisions/say goodbye, etc, and their parents, who may have not spoken to their son or daughter all those years can do that, and cut the most important person in that person’s life off? What about those cases, for a start?” Dad: “Oh, I hadn’t really thought about that.”

SHIIIIIIIIT!!! Special.

Then  another day, we are discussing whether the little girls who just lost their mother had gone back to school yet? It was two weeks since their Mum had died. Um, Dad: ” Oh, I has, but H, not yet, she has a large gash on her forehead which is quite deep and unsightly, and you know, she’s a girl.” SMH! S and I looked at each other, and I said, “um, what? WTF does that matter? The kid is 11 years old, and who cares if she’s girl, boy, trans, horned, or whatever-the-fuck-else?” He replied with, “oh you know, girls, they care what they look like.” I looked directly at him and said, “hmmm, so no one else does? And that is what being a girl means? Looks? Get in the real world, Dad. It only matters to the people who think that way, and those like you that perpetuate her value as being equated with her looks, FFS.” He looked mildly offended and I don’t think he got it. See, special!

Exhibit number three: Dad is discussing (inappropriately) the state of my brother’s marriage, when he casually mentions that my (newer) sister-in-law currently weighs over 100kgs. (She was a gorgeous, slightly curvaceous, but I would estimate no more than 60-65ish kg girl when I last saw her a couple of years ago.) I turned to him and said, “ah, what? How do you know that? And, more importantly, why are you mentioning it? That is not something that your son should be discussing with you, and it is certainly not something you should be sharing with me. Besides which, why are you sharing that? Why is it important to you both?” Fucking special. Especially since my sister’s younger daughter is anorexic, and has been dangerously ill for the past few years, was refused treatment from every centre in her state as she was “too thin” – it is a scary condition, really scary. (She is a slightly healthier weight, and I mean only slightly, at the moment, she has done a lot of work, knows she is very ill, but was still talking about how she needed to lose weight for the wedding, as she was a bridesmaid – you would lose her if she turned sideways. Seriously, and dangerously thin.) What. The. Actual. FUUUUUUUUUUCK?!

Just like the kind of crap that is normalised, like the lyrics to so many songs, I refuse to post the song itself, but how internalised are lyrics like these?  John Mayer’s Daughters:

I know a girl
She puts the colour inside of my world
But she’s just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change
And I’ve done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands
Now I’m starting to see
Maybe it’s got nothing to do with me

Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Oh, you see that skin?
It’s the same she’s been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she’s left
Cleaning up the mess he made

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Boys, you can break
You find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without the warmth from
A woman’s good, good heart

On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too [3x]

There were also discussions about racism, my brothers had recently pulled Dad up about some language he was using. So, the whole visit with my Aussie family (who were not involved in these exchanges) – with my bigoted gay Dad, lol –  was full of these clangers, I mostly bit my tongue, for the sake of calm, but I was bloody glad to be heading home. My take home message was this. I had a fucking fantastic Mum. I never saw how fucked up and gendered my upbringing was. I mostly felt I was treated on an equal basis to my two younger brothers, and I didn’t even know that Dad was quite such a fucktard really!

Good job, Mum xxx

It still leaves me completely gobsmacked that these attitudes are so prevalent, but yeah, what do we see, hear, experience? Lily said it well a few years back with these observations:

The Fear

I want to be rich and I want lots of money
I don’t care about clever I don’t care about funny
I want loads of clothes and fuckloads of diamonds
I heard people die while they are trying to find themAnd I’ll take my clothes off and it will be shameless
‘Cause everyone knows that’s how you get famous.[Pre-chorus:]
I’ll look at the sun and I’ll look in the mirror
I’m on the right track, yeah I’m on to a winner.

[Chorus:]
I don’t know what’s right and what’s real anymore
And I don’t know how I’m meant to feel anymore
And when do you think it will all become clear?
‘Cause I’m being taken over by the fear

Life’s about film stars and less about mothers
It’s all about fast cars and cussing each other
But it doesn’t matter cause I’m packing plastic
And that’s what makes my life so fucking fantastic

And I am a weapon of massive consumption
And it’s not my fault it’s how I’m programmed to function

[Pre-chorus]

[Chorus]

Forget about guns and forget ammunition
‘Cause I’m killing them all on my own little mission
Now I’m not a saint but I’m not a sinner
Now everything’s cool as long as I’m getting thinner

[Chorus]