Tools employed to scramble out of emotional pits?
Humour.
Humour is one I try to grasp hold of.
I had a lovely dinner with a group of recently divorced/separated professional women and mums last night. Every one of us had cheating partners in our past. And we could be a bunch of bitter bunnies, but actually, this was an incredibly strong, funny, beautiful group of women assembled at the new home of my vet friend whose husband cheated and left with his secretary, who moved into her new home at the weekend. She’s bought a property just a few kilometres from me.
I met a total babe friend of hers late last year as she joined one of our tables at the Boxing Day races.
This sweetheart – a landscape designer – who I really connected with that day, but hadn’t seen or spoken to since, turned up with this gorgeous orchid for me, as a birthday present! How lovely is that? So kind. I was terribly touched.
And, as a group, we really did have a giggle.
The below meme was one of my favourite things the internet delivered to me early this morning…
(I actually wasn’t looking, so no rushing, but man, did Roger love bomb me into moving in with him, the “love of my life” after knowing him just five weeks….Two weeks after he fucked his ex girlfriend, Leanne, again. 🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️)
Yeah. I must have grabbed the wrong one.
And it does make you doubt yourself.
Badly.
BG messaged me after I told him I had booked my flights to meet him after his conference in Australia in a few weeks.
I did realise how vulnerable and insecure I have become.
And am desperately trying to hide that fact.
His message to me was this…
I panicked mildly. My thought was, okay, he’s had enough. He wants to pull out of this.
So, I started planning what I would do on a weekend in Brisbane on my own.
He didn’t call back as promised.
Turns out he had fallen asleep, and all he was trying to do was coordinate his flights from Sydney to meet me, coming from New Zealand, and who was booking accommodation where, etc.
My, not good enough shit had taken over. Like anyone who has been long term, and multiply cheated on. I assumed the worst, and started planning what to do without him.
There has never, at any stage, been any indication he is anything but incredibly into me. After all, he came back around very eagerly after I ghosted him for six months after two tentative dates…
This was my shit. My not good enough. My everyone who loves me leaves me.
He followed it up with a VERY intense, deliciously sweaty lovemaking session, a huge amount of gratitude, and an invitation to come to his old town to meet his friends and the stepdaughter who lives there, and is about to move overseas, and he still has a lovely relationship with, this weekend. He’s gonna take the day off and come over on Friday, I’ll try and leave work early, and we can get away together.
It’s hard, believing in yourself when you’ve been smashed to pieces. When your heart is broken.
But, you draw on all the tools you have, to stay away from the sharp objects at night, to give and receive love from friends. From a kind man. To try to be open while protecting yourself from being fucked over again.
Being dumped for another woman has changed so very much of me, and so many of my friendships. Coupled friends are scared of me. Whether it is that it might be contagious, or they think I might be some kind of threat? I really have no idea. I am now running with a bizarre crowd of mostly younger, loving, fun, diligent, hard working, strong AF single women, trying to find their mojo again after, in some cases, decades of giving to a cheating man and their children.
This is endemic. Men who discard amazing women. Honestly, on looks alone last night, I thought shit, these are hot bitches who loved. And not one of their exes was terribly good looking. WTF universe?