Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum



(That was my head exploding.)

Bloody hell. Sorry guys, I got the other marked essay back today.

A+. 100%.

I think I am living in a parallel universe. One where the lecturers are all on some SERIOUS hallucinogens.

Once again, I am oversharing about it here. Because there is no one else.

His comments, “extraordinary. An outstanding piece of work. You have gone way beyond the bounds of this course while remaining true to its core ideas. This is exceptional creative and original scholarship.”

I am beaming like the proverbial cat that got the cream



One of the hardest parts about letting go of a relationship with a partner who supported you, believed in you, fed your soul, shared your successes (and commiserated about your failures) is the loneliness. The lack of high fives when you do well.

I got my marked final undergrad year, gender, place and culture geography essay back last week. Worth 33% of the final grade. I knew I had an A+ on it. The lecturer had let us know she would post the grades early in the week, as she couldn’t return the hard copies just yet, with two legitimate late submissions needing out-marking. Of course, I was pleased, you always are with an A+.

I picked up my marked hard copy a few days later. I got 100% on it. I mean, WTF??? I didn’t even know you could get 100% on a humanities essay! Maths, sciences, yes. A definitive answer. Of course. But a subjective viewpoint? WOW.Her final comment was, “very much graduate level, here is your Masters on a plate!”

And, in my isolation from all my previous friends, and now from Roger, I was absolutely fizzing (had a few tears in the carpark as I read her comments!) but had no one to share my thrill with. I got a 97% on an essay on the equivalent second year paper, but had never heard of 100%. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I am also on a diet and exercise plan that I am trying to stick hard to, and am avoiding alcohol, so no bubbles for me.  The best I could do was Snapchat my eldest daughter in the capital. woohoo – when it should have been WOOHOO – LOOK AT ME, CHECK OUT THE BRAIN ON PAULA!

The loss of all of my emotional support systems and especially Rog, who really was a great person to celebrate success with, just tears at me. My daughter let my (former) best friend know. I was very surprised she did that. But J let me know she had heard, and we saw each other at a friend’s ANZAC Day centenary party (we never see each other any more, I have withdrawn from her as she just doesn’t understand) and she gave me a huge hug, and was almost speechless – her words, “I’m not surprised, you have always been WAY more than capable, but heck, I didn’t even know you COULD get a perfect score on a humanities essay.” Me: “I KNOW, WTF?” J: “Can I tell my siblings?” J’s parents are both deceased, but her seven siblings are closer to me than my own are. I answered, “ummmm, yeah, I suppose, I mean, of course, I’m sure they will be super excited to hear that, lol.”

Same day at uni, I was leaving my morning double lecture, the one with the old-school, dry lecturer called my name. I was very surprised, didn’t know he KNEW my name. We had a 35% essay due not long after the GEOG one, and I found it very challenging – the most challenging one I have done thus far. It was 3000 words on a VERY broad topic. I was very worried I hadn’t really answered the question properly – I went a little bit leftfield – even after asking myself if I had answered it a million times prior to submission. As I walked towards the lectern, I had, “OMG, he is going to say, you seem to have missed the point entirely on your essay, Paula.” When I got to him (half the class was right behind me, so no privacy, gulp) he said, “I just wanted to thank you so much for your essay.”

Wait, WTF???

Since when do you get thanked for handing in an essay?

I replied, ” oh, okay, thanks. I was quite worried about it.” He smiled and said, “don’t be,” and I walked away.

How weird is that???

So, I am hoping that is a good sign?

But, once again, I am very alone in all of this. Being alone is normally okay with me these days. I have been comfortable in my own skin most of my life, but this is another level. Most of the time, I am comfortable with my own achievements. I often think of Mum, and how she would have been who I would have shared this with if she was still here.

So, after nearly a week, I am sharing it here. Not to get the “well dones” that my Mum, or Roger would have provided, just to share that this is one of the consequences of being betrayed, and your love being wrenched from you.

So, here I am, yelling to the blogosphere



Hmmm, how long is it to meh?

I am totally stealing a link from one of my favourite betrayed’s blogs today. It has been circulating and fermenting in my brain as I struggle to eek out a (revolting!) essay that has gone totally off-piste! CrazyKat of trynottocryonmyrainbow posted this link to the BEST DAMN ARTICLE on friendship and its demise after someone has suffered such ultimate betrayal. I was very choked up reading it, and most unlike me, I read it again. (Thank you Kat.)

It’s amazing! It says everything I have thought, felt and wanted to punch the whore for – at least in the past couple of years. My losses are real, and a shrink validated what I have observed, and worse, felt down to my very core. Great Betrayals indeed. (Bah, can’t get the link to embed – pasting here: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/06/opinion/sunday/great-betrayals.html?pagewanted=all&_r=5&.

The interesting thing for me is this. Roger thinks he wants “us” to survive. He is hanging in there until the very last breath. I have asked him to list the farm for sale this September, so we can get some closure, and split some assets, so I can move away. He is lovely, he is thoughtful, he is understanding (I thought.) I decided to open up to him a little. My walls have been high, water-tight for a long time, since I knew I needed to end this agony of trying to forgive enough to move forward with him, it just wasn’t happening, I was too damaged. But, I read the article to him. He was silent. He stayed silent. Over a day later (and we have both been at home all weekend, without kids) he decided I was angry with him. I wasn’t. I just thought he had the emotional intelligence of a gnat. Probably more sheer disappointment. So he asked me if I was angry at him about something. I said, “no, not angry at all.” He replied with, “it seems like you are.” I looked at him, and said “what would I have to be angry at you about?” His reply? “Is it about the article you read out to me?” (See, he knew!)  I said that it didn’t really matter too much, I don’t really share much anymore, so …. whatever. But the truth of it is, he didn’t care. And he knows it. He has made all the right noises about caring, about trying to understand me, and how catastrophic this has been one me, and my struggle to understand why (after all, two people were having sex for a while, meh!)

But I am severely damaged. I have had little recovery, and it FUCKING PISSES ME OFF! I thought I was better than this, stronger than this. I didn’t need validation from a man, or society for anything. But this has ruined my life – and that is no bloody exaggeration, and it PISSES ME OFF. I don’t WANT it to have ruined my life! Leanne (and Roger) robbed me of all of my emotional strength, resilience and my worldview. Not to mention my friendships, and my joy. The injustice is obvious, but why does it still hurt so damn much?

So, I read something that makes me feel understood, by some woman I will never meet, and I ponder my world now. No real people other than my children, two of whom live in different parts of the country, and one who will fly away from me come September. I would have loved for just one of my friends to have understood. But, it is what it is, and I have to learn to live around that pile of shit, thanks ACT.


You WERE the Only Exception

I have always connected in a very visceral and emotionally intense way with music. I know I am in no way alone in this. Most of the world needs some form of music to survive, to emote, to connect….

So, lately I have been listening to all sorts, a lot of ‘back catalogue’ to my life, mostly stuff like The Pixies, LCD Soundsystem, Arctic Monkeys….

But today, one that my daughter had on her iPhone in my car reminded me so clearly of the tears I shed over a song by a band I probably don’t really think twice about. It was released in 2009, and the lyrics, O. M. G. I thought maybe I wrote them! 2009 was the year the affair ended, and the year it was exposed to me several weeks later. The year my “exception” showed he was no exception, he was a lousy, stinking, lying sack of shit, just like I was afraid most men might be…but not him.

You see, I was that girl, the girl who watched her parents’ marriage disappear into oblivion, and my lesson was, “love is shit, be your own woman, be strong, independent, and don’t love a man if you can help it, if you can’t help it, love a DAMN good one, the “only exception.” I was sure I had found him, Roger was just a wonderful man, a caring and loving partner, strength, softness, and darling all rolled into one perfect-for-me package. We loved and were loved. Those were some truly amazing decades 🙂 I had hit the jackpot. He was the exception.

Until he wasn’t.

I still can’t believe it.

(And I won’t even go there about the band’s name – perfect in a totally sick way for this topic, huh….)

When I was younger I saw my daddy cry
And curse at the wind.
He broke his own heart and I watched
As he tried to reassemble it.And my momma swore
That she would never let herself forget.
And that was the day that I promised
I’d never sing of love if it does not exist.

But darling,
You are the only exception.
You are the only exception.
You are the only exception.
You are the only exception.

Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul
That love never lasts.
And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone.
Or keep a straight face.

And I’ve always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable distance.
And up until now I have sworn to myself
That I’m content with loneliness.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk.

Well you are the only exception.
You are the only exception.
You are the only exception.
You are the only exception.

I’ve got a tight grip on reality,
But I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here.
I know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up.
Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream.

You are the only exception. [4x]

You are the only exception. [4x]

And I’m on my way to believing.
Oh, and I’m on my way to believing.