Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum


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Returning

Returned from a whirlwind trip up north. Took my youngest daughter to a school ball as a friend’s “date.” All girls’ state school, and it was a bit of an eye opener for her, she was amazed at how “young” the girls she was with were, 16 and 17 year olds all starry eyed about boys. One thing the state co-ed school she goes to inadvertently teaches kids is how to interact with the opposite sex. She is a fairly mature 16 year old. She has seen some real-life heartbreak (ahem, that would be her totally devastated parents) and had to break up with her first love due to religious differences (we are atheists, he is Muslim) and they were hiding their “relationship” from his parents, until they couldn’t any longer. I tried to gently nudge her about relationships that you have to keep secret. Her ex-BF is a lovely guy, and they weren’t doing anything sexual – and yeah, I believe her – as she respected his religion as an important part of who he is. She was very sad, but quite philosophical, she knew it could never work, and she is off overseas for five months soon.

Anyway, back to the trip. It was a bit rushed, we drove almost 1000kms in one weekend. But we took our exchange student with us to show her around a bit up north. It was a productive trip – we bought some gifts for her (N) to take home, and some for D to take with her to her host family. The weather was mixed, but generally nice, as it usually is up north, winter or not.

With so much driving, we listened to a lot of music. And on the way home, this old one of The Killers came on. This and Pulp’s Underwear just rip me to shreds.

Still.

I have this awful imagination. I see these things happening. I talked to Roger about it this morning. This version, with Jarvis’ commentary beforehand at Reading in ’94, totally describes how I feel about it all. I can’t turn it off. These images, of them undressing, breathing heavily, full of passion and desire. Dripping with hormones and the thrill of the forbidden, the heightened emotions of distance and ……..My heart just can’t cope. And no matter what I do, this is what loops for me. I know that their sex was mostly pretty average, but you know, a fifteen month long distance affair, when they often didn’t see each other for months – O. M. G. It had to be sexy, and passionate sometimes. He nodded, and said, “sadly, yes, a little. Not on this scale, but yeah, there were tender moments, and gentle fumblings as we undressed, I’m so damn sorry that you still can’t turn these awful movies off.” The pain. It is searing. And the most frustrating thing is that even without him, it doesn’t abate. I have tried all kinds of mind contortions. I try to cut and paste me back into those movies, hell, we were erotic, so why not replace those pictures with the better ones, of US. I have tried cutting HIM out of them, and replacing him with someone else, even a faceless someone else. But none of the things I have tried (including hypnotherapy to just shut the damn things completely off) have stuck, and I loop and loop through this shit.

I love music, I can’t not listen to it, and the reason is that it speaks to me. I know exactly what people are singing about, you know, your own interpretation of someone else’s lyrics, maybe not even close to what they’re actually singing about. But every now and again, yep, a real dagger in the heart.

So, a long, busy weekend, and the pain of it all never abates.

I know it never will.

And throughout it all, I still fucking love him. Like an abused wife. I fucking hate it.

The Killers – Mr. Brightside

Coming out of my cage
And I’ve been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I’m falling asleep
And she’s calling a cab
While he’s having a smoke
And she’s taking a drag
Now they’re going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it’s all in my head
But she’s touching his chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, letting me goI just can’t look its killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis
But it’s just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
Cause I’m Mr BrightsideI’m coming out of my cage
And I’ve been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I’m falling asleep
And she’s calling a cab
While he’s having a smoke
And she’s taking a drag
Now they’re going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it’s all in my head
But she’s touching his chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, letting me go

‘Cause I just can’t look its killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibi
But it’s just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
‘Cause I’m Mr Brightside
I never
I never
I never
I never

 

Pulp – Underwear Lyrics

Why don’t you shut the door,
And close the curtains,
’cause you’re not going anywhere.
He’s coming up the stairs,
And in a moment he’ll want to see your underwear.You couldn’t stop it now.
There’s no way to get out.
He’s standing far too near.
How the hell did you get here.
Semi-naked in somebody else’s room.
I’d give my whole life to see it.
Just you,
Stood there,
Only in your underwear.If fashion is your trade,
Then when you’re naked,
I guess you must be unemployed yeah.
’cause once it’s underway,
There’s no escaping,
The fact that you’re a girl and he’s a boy.

You couldn’t stop it now.
There’s no way to get out.
He’s standing far too near.
How the hell did you get here.
Semi-naked in somebody else’s room.
I’d give my whole life to see it.
Just you,
Stood there,
Only in your underwear.

If you close your eyes and just remember,
That this is what you wanted last night.
So why is it so hard for you to touch him.
For you to go and give yourself to him?

I couldn’t stop it now.
There’s no way to get out.
He’s standing far too near.
How the hell did you get here,
Semi-naked in somebody else’s room.
I’d give my whole life to see it.
Just you,
Stood there,
Only in your underwear.

Do, do do do do. Do, do. Do, do. Do, do, do, do, do.
Do, do.
Do, do.
Oh yeah,
I want to see you.
Want to see you only in your underwear


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Choices. A meandering rant.

As I sit here, taking a break from yet another “This is the Worst Essay I Have Had to Write!” I read a couple of blogs and reflect on my choices.

I have always been a bit of a ditherer. Not very decisive. It drives me nuts. I think I might have suffered from FOMO before it was even a “thing.” I guess I always framed it as worrying I was making the WRONG choice, rather than that I would miss out on anything if I chose differently.

That said, once I do make a choice, there’s no backing out. Which is also quite frustrating at times! God, I make life so much harder than it needs to be!

I guess my point here is that I always wish I could choose happiness. You know, the kind that everyone always spouts on about, “Happiness is a choice, choose it everyday,” blah-dee, blah-dee, blah. I would desperately like to choose to continue on with Roger. He’s a hell of a guy. Yeah, he fucked up and in a gigantically fucked up way. He came to me this morning and we chatted for a while over cups of tea, me in bed, him lying beside me on the duvet. We have these little tete-a-tetes when we don’t have to be anywhere, and there are no kids about. It’s nice. We are on the same page about so much in life. And he gets it. As he articulated this morning when we strayed onto this topic just slightly (we don’t actually always talk about how fucked up we are!) “you were betrayed in the worst possible way, by people who you trusted, who you laughed with, who you helped, who you supported, and we did it in your houses, in your living spaces and on your time.We made you sick. You have continuing gynae treatment because of my choices, I don’t have any ill health effects. It’s not fair. You should stop feeling so bad about not being able to be with me. I know I haven’t helped, as in my selfishness, I wanted to stay in your bed to touch you, to get comfort from you, and I desperately didn’t want us to end, I love you so damn much, and I fucked the whole world up for you. You have tried so hard, and worked so long to find your feet after we took them out from underneath you.” We back and forthed a little. I am angry that I haven’t healed like so many I read have. We had twenty-one damn fantastic years, and I don’t know why I can’t see that the twenty-seven years I have lived with him are still “mostly good?” Well, obviously I can SEE that, but it doesn’t seem to hold any water…. Bah. I mentioned to him that I don’t really like to talk about any of this anymore, because the waterworks seem to be inevitable. I fucking hate the leaky taps! Then I mentioned to him that I have never seen him cry. Not full on. Never. He had wet cheeks when our eldest daughter was born, and I think one other time, about what his affair has done to me, but really only swimmy eyes, not any weeping or sobbing. Hell, I am not one to try to drag an emotional response out of someone who doesn’t FEEL it, but I asked. His answer was that he has fought the tears desperately, as he is terrified that if he lets the ones fall that he is holding back, that he’ll never be able to stop, the dam is holding back such a great deal of deep pain. I get that, but I told him my dam broke, and I can’t seem to patch it up, the damage is bloody well done. He then said, “you know what, you have healed. This is healed. For you.” And I angrily agreed. I told him I had accepted that about a year ago.

This is as good as it gets.

That sucks arse.

Then I read blogs and see that some people are living the reality that I was afraid of. The life where you love each other, but there is fear, and you can never throw yourself fully back into it. You have to hold a piece back, some insurance, a last vestige of self. I have never held anything back. Maybe that’s a bad thing? But I just live and breathe everything I attempt. Farming. I bred up a top pedigree herd. Parenting. I served on every bloody committee and board for my kids’ kindy, schools, sports, activities. Studying. I NEED A+s, any less seems a little….less. Travel. Go as far away as you can, and throw yourself into a new life. Work. Chuck everything you have at it. Time, emotion, skill. Where has this got me? Heartbroken. But I don’t seem to be able to do anything any other way. So, I feel like the proverbial idiot, doing the same old thing, expecting a different result.

I want to be able to come back to Roger, and do it three quarters. But that feels revolting! It’s not how I love. I love with every atom of my being. I love to the point of fucking self destruction. We fucked like newlyweds our entire twenty-five years we fucked. I don’t seem to own a dimmer switch. On. Or off. No bloody in-between. And it is a sure recipe for making yourself utterly miserable.

This is the stuff I asked of all of the therapists I saw. How do I develop a dimmer switch? How do I learn to do things half-arsed? How do I learn to protect myself, to keep something back for me, and not feel like a fraud?

No one seemed to have the answer. Damn it.


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Q&A

Darling Kat just nominated me for a Liebster Award. Whilst I don’t generally play this game too well (I won’t nominate and pay it forward, sorry) I am in the birthing stages of a particularly painful essay, and any excuse to procrastinate will suffice!

So, here goes. my answers to her questions:

What is the last best meal you ate?

Geez, hop right into the hard stuff, Kat! Ummmmm. I love good food. Ummmm. Well, the last good meal would be the beef cheeks on roasted garlicky mash with steamed Asian greens I did two nights ago. Most memorable restaurant meal of recent times? Well, it was a dessert. Of course. I can’t remember the details, think it was a white chocolate and passionfruit kind of mousse, wrapped in a white chocolate lattice and served with a berry coulis (raspberry, I think.) But it was far more than it sounds – I think it had some herby and citrusy elements that lifted it above a standard dessert. I rarely eat out, and it was some time ago.

Where is your favorite place to relax, and what is your favorite relaxation activity?

Relaxation? WTF is that?

I used to love our lake house, and to read a damn good book and drink a damn good pinot noir. Or go to the races and watch our horses running, and study pedigrees and plan matings for the broodmares (listen to me, I sound all wealthy and shit – we had two, when we were dairy farming and had a good income!) Until whore got smeared on all of that, lol. Now, I guess I love to walk. To rid the body from the tension I now feel constantly and to appreciate the superb environment we have at our back doorstep. Planning on doing some more of the South Island tracks in the next few years.

What is your favorite all time love story (can be a novel, a movie, a real life story, whatever) and why?

I don’t think I have one. I used to think it was my own, but see that maybe I built it up too much, and it can’t have been what I thought it was.

If I was to go all commercial and sappy, probably the predictable old Love Actually. I also liked the “Before” trilogy with Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke (Sunrise, Sunset, Midnight) and the crazy way that love changes and challenges.

List all the places in the world you have lived and which you enjoyed the most, and why.

Only New Zealand – both North and South Islands (I went to university in the far south first, and my son is there now) and the UK. I was only in the UK for a short while (less than a year) and lived in the Cotswolds, which was lovely. My family are scattered around the world. My Mum was from Perth, Western Australia, and we visited as often as we could as kids as we were the only grandchildren for a long time. My sister has been there for thirty-six years now. My brother lives in London and my youngest brother in Queenstown, after more than a decade of living in France and travelling. I think I love where I live. But could shift anywhere that makes me happy(er). I have lived briefly in cities, but my heart is rural, and I love to visit urban spaces to get my fix of architecture and the arts, then slink home to my rural haven.

What are your three greatest joys?

I no longer know. It used to be my love. My darling Rog and me against the world (and the SEX!!!!!) Followed by my kids (whoops, as a mother, I think the PC answer was my three darling children?) and I guess just joie de vivre! I LOVED life.

I guess now I am enjoying doing well in my studies, but joy is something I haven’t felt even once in the six years since his affair was outted to me. Pretty pathetic, but true. God, I miss joy. So damn much!

What is the most interesting place you have ever visited?

Weirdly, I enjoyed a holiday in Brisbane a few years ago (lol, during his affair, unbeknownst to me, we had a ball!) The galleries had superb shows and it was June and warm and we don’t get away often. We found pottering about in the young designers market, etc most enjoyable. Not very adventurous, but it was a lovely time. I haven’t ever had the funds or the freedom to be a very intrepid traveller, something I hope the future holds for me.

The most interesting? Hmmmmm. That is a tough call? My memory must be going because I can’t conjure anything up right now! I always enjoy learning about new cultures and being surprised by what is the “quite ordinary” to someone else.

What are your three greatest fears?

That I will never get over his affair, and never enjoy mindblowing sex and multiple orgasms ever again.

That my children will have their future happiness adversely affected by this crap – I didn’t think I was very affected by my own parents, but I was. It has been a factor in my non-recovery. I see very clear links to my unhappiness now and my parents divorce that were never there before. I am scared my kids will continue the cycle.

I found out I am mildly fearful of heights, by several means. Bungey jumping seemed like a pretty normal thing to do. Until I was there! And horse trekking in the Central Otago mountains taught me that watching my kids on their reliable standardbred mounts as I followed behind on a perky little quarterhorse for hours and hours, on a narrow path in front of me, about to plummet to their deaths if their horses shied was pretty terrifying! I never knew until a few years ago! I really have to push myself in those situations now.

Name something about yourself that most people don’t know.

Well, all my blogging friends know how severely affected I have been by infidelity, but my IRL friends and acquaintances would have no idea how deeply this has cored me. Otherwise, I have an exceptionally long tongue, and so do my daughters, we can all touch our noses easily and more than just the tips! Nostril cleansing would be a breeze. Skills! I was diagnosed with PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) when I was 22 and told I would never have children naturally, and that my chances of conceiving via IVF were slim. I do not, and have only six times in my 47 years, menstruated. (Ew, Paula, really, who wants to know that crap????) All three of ours were conceived naturally – two “by mistake!” And I’ve been cheap to keep, and unaffected by monthly hormones as a result, lol.

What last made you laugh out loud?

My new puppy, Maple. She is MAD!

What is the one thing you would purchase right now if money was no object?

I seriously cannot think! Um, a new car to replace the crapped out old Nissan X-Trail that is now about twelve years old. Something sleek and European. But I don’t really care that much about “stuff.” Maybe a ticket for a twelve month journey to some of those aforementioned intrepid spaces…..

Oh Lord! I thought that was going to be uplifting, but all I can see (yet again) is that I have shrunk my world in these past six years in the agony I have struggled against on a daily basis. I used to be fun! I used to be far more interesting! I struggle daily to get some of that back now. It is really a daily fight for survival, the growth still feels a LOONG way off, but it is something I continue to strive for.

Thanks for reading my crap. What a party pooper ;-)!