Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum



Here in lockdown, solo, makes me realise even more what I have survived.

I fought so hard.

Both to survive Roger and Leanne’s deep and very cruel betrayal.

And then Roger’s subsequent betrayal with Trinket, after promising me forever love, fidelity and honesty.

That shit nearly killed me.

Every single night, I would battle my broken heart.

To not go and make a noose.

To not connect a hose to the car’s exhaust.

For two whole years, I wanted to not have to be here and deal with the unbearable pain of loss. Of discard. Of being replaced.

The irony of fighting cancer, and wanting to kill myself was not lost.

My children are the ONLY reason I survived that prolonged agony.

To look at me from the outside, no one would ever know.


Good girls

I’ve always been a “good girl.” I play by the rules.


But this quote … nailed it.

I definitely can do “bad” things, but am incredibly selective about who I’ll do them with.

I think that is part of my “allure,” if there’s any. BG said something about this, recently. That I am the ultimate, elegant package (he called me a ‘lady’ – which I swiftly and gently corrected!) but if I allow you to unwrap me, then the wonder begins. He says he’s been beautifully surprised by my naughty layers.

I love this.


Sexual abuse

A guy who I went to school with has just friend requested me again on Facebook.


He did this a few years ago. I think I accepted and deleted him a few days later. I don’t want to block him, this seems extreme. He went through a difficult divorce from a very controlling woman some years ago. And has re-partnered with a really lovely woman I know vaguely. Apparently he is very good to her, and they are very happy.

I don’t want to accept his request because he was sexually abusive of me at school. As a teenager. He had the hots for me, a tiny girl, and he used his 6 foot 3 frame to trap and “fondle” me.

On many occasions.

It made me sick. And scared. I don’t need him on my feed. It upset me no end, what he did to me. And in that climate, I just “laughed it off.” ‘Cos that’s what the cool girls did.


My life has been spent fighting these feelings that men put on me by forcing themselves on me, and/or manipulating my emotions.

I used to think I’d beaten all of the demons.


The way Rog treated me. The way he was so dishonest when he was secretly, actively, working on finding my replacement. While telling me he loved me, would wait for me forever. He promised me I was all he ever wanted, and that he supported me and was fully committed to me.

While he was online dating. Shopping for a new wife appliance as he squeezed the last out of me.

All the while I honestly, truly, deeply loved him. Thought he was a good man, who’d “made a mistake.”

Except he kept making them. So, not a mistake. A choice. To continually betray and expose me to danger.

This caused so much buried trauma to resurface. All my feelings of being an object, easily used, abused and discarded. Made me feel like all the work I did to heal, to re-empower myself, was wiped out. Everything I bled over, helping Rog build a beautiful, meaningful life, was deleted.

Fuck those entitled men who think they can help themselves to women’s bodies, and fuck with their emotions.


I don’t give AF about you

Been awake for three hours. It’s 5.29am.

So much for thinking starting back on the previously ineffective melatonin, was working this time!

Have been ruminating on how someone goes from being everything, to nothing. How can he tell the next one, after three decades of convincing the one who gave them everything, the same things he told me? I bet she’s the love of his life. The only woman who will ever get him. He’s soooo in love with her. She’s his love monkey. Hunk Lummox. Snooks. Baby bear….you get the picture.

Anyway, that’s been keeping me awake.

Which is stupid. Untangling the skein.

It’s BG’s birthday.

And I can’t kiss him. I can’t wake up spooning with him. I can’t make him his favourite morning indulgence, my buttermilk pancakes. It will be a minimum of two more weeks, I believe, before we can be together again. 😭

So the ache is harder to deal with. I get it.

I don’t fuck with you
You little stupid ass bitch I ain’t fuckin’ with you
You little dumb ass bitch I ain’t fuckin’ with you
I got a million trillion things I’d rather fuckin’ do
Than to be fuckin’ with you
Little stupid ass, I don’t give a fuck
I don’t give a fuck, I don’t I don’t I don’t give a fuck
Bitch I don’t give a fuck about you or anything that you do
Don’t give a fuck about you or anything that you doI heard you gotta new man, I see you takin’ a pic
Then you post it up, thinking that its making me sick
I see you calling I be making it quick
I’m insta that shit like I don’t fuck with you
Bitch I got no feelings to go
I swear I had it up to here, got no ceilings to go
I mean for real, fuck how you feel
Fuck your 2 cents if it ain’t going towards the bill
And everyday I wake up celebrating shit, why
Cause I just dodged a bullet from a crazy bitch, I
Stuck to my guns, that’s what made me rich
That’s what put me on, that’s what got me here
That’s what made me this
And everything that I do is my first name
These hoes chase bread, aw damn she got a bird brain
Ain’t nothin but trill in me, aw man silly me
I just bought a crib three stories that bitch a trilogy
You know I’m rolling weed that’s fuckin’ up the ozone
I got a bitch that’s textin me she ain’t got no clothes on
And then another one text, and your ass next
And I’m gonna text your ass back like “I don’t fuck with you”I don’t fuck with you
You little stupid ass bitch I ain’t fuckin’ with you
You little dumb ass bitch I ain’t fuckin’ with you
I got a million trillion things I’d rather fuckin’ do
Than to be fuckin’ with you
Little stupid ass, I don’t give a fuck
I don’t give a fuck, I don’t I don’t I don’t give a fuck
Bitch I don’t give a fuck about you or anything that you do
Don’t give a fuck about you or anything that you doGot a million things on my mind
Executive deals online, limited amount of time
Chasing these dollar signs and you ain’t on your grind
[?] gonna find me up in the MGM casino in the D
[?] after the put on property
From the [?] of [?]
My niggas put murder missions
She choose him that’s her decision
Free my niggas in prison
On the phone with a bitch who can’t do shit
For a pimp but make a nigga hella rich
Got a blunt in my dental, goin’ H.A.M in a rental
On my way, to Sacramento, late night, Arsenio
I’m never sentimental, go hard or go home, listen
Barely Harley, I’m chromeless
You might end up domeless
I bet you shes into me, her cheddar shes giving me
I make a bitch stand out forever like the Statue of Liberty
Rest in pimp, Pimp C underground king of the south
I raise my Styrofoam up, and pour some drank in my mouth
Why you always coming around with bad news?
Say you want me to win, but hope I lose
Ass never rock with other niggas in the crew
But them niggas cool, it’s just thatI don’t fuck with you
You little stupid ass bitch I ain’t fuckin’ with you
You little dumb ass bitch I ain’t fuckin’ with you
I got a million trillion things I’d rather fuckin’ do
Than to be fuckin’ with you
Little stupid ass, I don’t give a fuck
I don’t give a fuck, I don’t I don’t I don’t give a fuck
Bitch I don’t give a fuck about you or anything that you do
Don’t give a fuck about you or anything that you doI got a new chick that I gotta thank God for
I got a new whip that I gotta thank a lot for
Yeah I got a lot but want a lot more
Yeah we in the building but I’m tryna take it to the top floor
I swear I hear some new bullshit every day I’m wakin’ up
It seems like nowadays everybody breakin’ up
That shit can break you down if you lose a good girl
I guess you need a bad bitch to come around and make it up
I guess drama makes for the best content
Everything got a bad side, even a conscience
Now you’re drinkin’ until your unconscious
Feel me when you get a fine bitch
Just don’t forget to read the fine print
Life got me meditating like I’m in the Himalayas
Keep it G with the L lit on me like the elevator
Yeah I know that karma’s too real so I hope you doing cool
But still stupid ass bitch I ain’t fuckin’ with you
Little stupid ass I ain’t fuckin with
I ain’t fuckin’, I ain’t I ain’t fuckin’ with you
I ain’t fuckin’ with you



I had a $450 solar powered electric fence unit stolen from my property about two days ago.

I reported to police, just due to the fact that there have been a lot of burglaries and even a couple of home entries in my area lately. I also posted to my local community Facebook page. Just for awareness.

I am totally blown away. Three people have offered me free ones.

I did not post for sympathy. Just awareness.

How bloody beautiful are people??? I can afford to replace it. But one lovely man is contactlessly dropping off a smaller unit shortly, on his allowed drive to get groceries.

I will definitely be paying this forward.


Lockdown blues

Today is day 11 of complete lockdown. I just calculated that this is 14 days since I have touched my boy.

Level 4 won’t be over before this Wednesday, at the earliest. In Level 3, we are still not allowed to travel outside of our immediate area. That will be another week or two, minimum. That will mean BG and I won’t have seen each other for at least a month.

This doesn’t sound that long. Lots of people I know have partners who travel overseas for work, or live on separate continents.

I’m feeling very pathetic. I was good on my own. Living a single life. Planning on staying that way.

But, I’m obviously pathetic. Roger and I rarely had many nights apart. In 30 years. He hunted, and went on overnight fishing trips. I occasionally took the kids to my mother’s. She died when they were very young, so that didn’t happen much. Or I worked the yearling sales, away for a few nights. I think the longest we ever had apart was maybe a week? When him and his mates got a ballot block hunting wapiti in Fiordland.

So, in a relationship, I’m obviously a disgusting needy bitch. Who fkn knew???

It’s affecting me. I know this. Aching for touch. Missing being able to snuggle. Horny AF. Yeah, I know, toys. They get a workout.

Not the same. It’s that comfort. That physical reassurance. I’m ashamed that I am this way.

And then I realise I am being a bit hard on myself. I have kids, and great friends, who have hugged and held me on this healing journey. On my own, during lockdown, I can’t snuggle down in her bed, with my daughter, hug a friend. Touch another human.

My brother is having a terrible mental health crisis. His head injury, pending divorce, job loss when he can’t move up here during lockdown, as he had planned…and then my Dad, down there trying to support him, ended up back in hospital with a mystery illness, scarily similar symptoms to those he had last year, culminating in the loss of a kidney. My youngest daughter, walking her own mental health balance beam. Yesterday’s extension of lockdown announcement meaning she will never return to her office. Her resignation effective during the extension, she feels deflated. Won’t get a proper send off, with her beloved colleagues.

My most recent off the plan apartment purchase finally had title issued yesterday. Trying to coordinate legal and mortgage paperwork remotely is becoming a challenge. Banks especially, like you to sign mortgage paperwork, in person.

My boss is being her usual lockdown utter control freak. Having zero access to our database, trying to work out of Dropbox, is frustrating, to say the least. I have cried four times over this. It’s utterly miserable being cut off at the knees, and I feel like my 15 years of dedication and loyalty to her is being rewarded with mistrust and ugliness.

I haven’t heard any more about the job I applied for almost a month ago. A single email. We are compiling a shortlist. We will get back to you shortly.

No other opportunities that look likely.

Timing. It couldn’t be more shit.

I need a damn hug. And some very vigorous sex, to be honest.

I feel like shit. And probably at best, halfway through this current situation.

So, good old Winston’s words to the fore, yet again.

Because I won’t let them beat me. Those damn suicidal thoughts that I can see peeping on the periphery of my vision. They can just fuck right off before they get anywhere near me again!

And, to be honest, they have only ever been a real threat when Roger chose other people. I always manage to lift myself up about everything else.

And BG sent me a message today, saying he us working on a plan. Whatever that may be. Relocating here, to base himself until Level 2, when he can open again, albeit with restrictions? I don’t know what his plan is. But I appreciate that he’s thinking about it!

And the most awful thing of all is, that while I do miss him. Do love him.

It’s not the depth I felt for Rog. And I’m pretty sure I will never have that love, that security, that enveloping safety and warmth I thought I had for at least 23 of those 30 years.


Love bombing. The ultimate tool

I had very little idea that I was being manipulated. I just thought that the words that came out of Norm’s mouth, and his tactility, his physical affection, and the fact that he always wanted to make love to me, were genuine.

He loved me.

And only me.

I was “the only woman who would ever get him. The only woman he ever wanted. His true love.”

It wasn’t until his affair with Leanne was exposed by her, that I started to examine how he was so good at making me – a strong, independent woman – do things I often didn’t really want to do. To please him. To make his life easier. After all, he’s “so nice.”

It was textbook. And I see now why – as my daughter asked me – I made my needs so small.

He’s an unbelievably good manipulator. I guarantee Trinket is the love of his life. The only one who understands him.

I borrowed the below from another chump…but my experience is EXACTLY THE SAME!!!

Here is the scenario in a nutshell. Am I right?

1) They love-bomb you until you’re totally attached and hooked. You suddenly can’t imagine life without them. There are some “red-flag” days, but you convince yourself to let it go. He/she is too nice to hurt you intentionally.

2) Out of the blue they begun to spend less and less time with you. They start to ignore your calls or “miss” your texts. Whereas before they checked up on you almost all day, they go for long stretches not talking to you. They stop saying good night. You get a sick feeling in your stomach. It seems like their attention is going somewhere else.

3) You finally say something. This is when the gaslighting begins. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. There’s nothing going on.

4) The two of you go back and forth with this inquiry/gaslighting cycle until you give up and are beaten into submission. You let go. They neglect you, and you accept it.

5) You stumble across the evidence of cheating. Repeat steps 1-5.

Step 3. OMG. That was so hard. I ‘felt’ something was off. No idea what. Never even thought of cheating. So I talked to him. I begged him to come to couples’ therapy with me. He sweet talked me, said ‘everything’s fine, Snooks. You’re imagining things. We’re just busy. I love you.”

But I made an appointment anyway, thinking, if I make it, he’ll take me seriously, and we’ll work this out together.

Nope. I went alone. To three sessions. I really didn’t have a clue he waa cheating. Just felt some kind of disconnect. That he kept denying. I must have been imagining it. Silly me.

He admitted after DDay that he was terrified the counsellor would get the truth out of him. He knew he could lie to and manipulate me, because I loved him.

Later, I started to realise he was texting and talking to and about Leanne a lot. He didn’t make a lot of effort to hide it. Correctly knowing me enough to know that I trusted him, and being fairly open about contact with her would ensure I wouldn’t suspect he was fucking her. He also sprinkled in a fair amount of, “I’m only talking to her out of pity for a single mum. She’s still the same narcissistic, awful person who cheated on me. I don’t like her much, just trying to help your friend…” it was the perfect strategy.

I never suspected for a long, long time. In fact, although I did ask about her twice, quite pointedly, his explanations (gaslighting, “you didn’t see what you saw, it was something entirely different, you silly”) “made sense.” And I forgot about my doubts.

17 months after he first fucked her, I really started to get VERY uneasy. I rang his best mate (who I considered one of my best mates, too, and who was a chump. His first wife cheated with her business partner and friend’s husband, and left him for her “friend’s” husband. Surely he’d understand my fears?) And asked to meet for coffee.

He met me in town. I disclosed my suspicions, and asked H if he knew anything.

H looked shocked. Denied any knowledge.

Them admitted that he and his wife also thought Roger’s relationship with Leanne was pretty disrespectful of me. Looked a bit dodgy. He said, “we’ve wondered. And you’re such an awesome chick, going with the flow, inviting that cunt (he hated Leanne) to parties, etc. We thought we were being a bit harsh on Norm. But we’ve noticed, too. And now that you have let me know you’re uncomfortable, I’ll make some enquiries. I’ll ask him for you.”

That was a debacle. Poor H. Sweetest guy. But weak as piss.

He took Rog out the next night. And drank a box of beer for Dutch courage, before probing him. He reported back to me the next day that no. Norm was not having an affair with Leanne.

So yeah, I was going insane. I beat myself up thinking, bloody hell, why are you acting so crazy? You’ve loved this man for 23 years, and he’s never been the guy you are accusing him of being in your head. Get it together!

But. H lied to me.

He asked Norm. And he didn’t admit outright to cheating. He didn’t openly say, yeah, been fucking Leanne for 17 months. Instead, he trickle truthed his best mate. Admitted that, yeah, there was some inappropriate stuff going on. But he’d put a stop to it. No need to worry.

So, me finally getting up the courage to question my own belief that Roger would never cheat or lie, was quashed. I felt so very, very ashamed of my thoughts. My silent accusations. What was wrong with me???

Besides, since I had quit my job, we were banging multiple times a day! Sex everywhere, all day long! He was telling me I was amazing. The most wonderful. The sexiest. The hottest. We were on fire. I was loved up to my eyeballs, and shooting out the top of my head. I recall one day, having made love, slowly, achingly, in the morning, then a quickie in a haybarn at the baxk if the farm, on the back of the quadbike, sheltering from a downpour, we finally returned home in the pouring rain early in the afternoon. No raingear, we were soaked through.

Instead of going straight to the house, he pulled me roughly into a stable and took me hard up against the stable wall. I was dripping wet – EVERYWHERE – and my jelly legs went from under me afterwards. He was insatiable.

And so was I.

I had no idea we were hysterical bonding. Because he didn’t have an affair, right? This was just us. We loved each other so much.

Of course, seven weeks later, Leanne told me they were having an affair. And the hysterical bonding continued for another 18 months. The sex was amazing. He’d “never had such intense orgasms, ever. With anyone.” He’d bite me so hard, often breaking skin. I was genuinely afraid I might lose a nipple one day! The way his eyes blackened as he came just about ripped me apart. I’m multi orgasmic as a rule, but OMG. This was insane. We were on fire. If he looked at me, I’d be instantly wet. His touch made my legs buckle. I was giddy with his love.

So yeah. Those steps that woman described. They are exact. A cycle of lies (gaslighting) and love bombing. Followed by discovery, more love bombing. More promises he never kept. Rinse. Repeat.

When I questioned him about his online activity, he lied. He repeated all the love bombing, the denials, then finally discarded me when he found his perfect target, Trinket.

But the hysterical bonding, the intense sex, that just happened all over again. He was never faithful to her. We fucked something horrific those entire seven months he was leaving me for her. A hot sex smorgasbord.

He’s good guys. Soooo good.

Leave a comment


I’m not a huge affirmations person. I do see their place, and the positivity that surrounds this concept, but I am a tad cynical about popular culture’s pop psychology at the same time.

That said, with my mood diving…

… I’ll take it where I can!

Because I know that while Roger found me too hard to love, that I am not. I’m really easy going, low maintenance, and love back exponentially any love you give to me.

BG isn’t a love bomber. A fact I am aware of, grateful for, and yet also struggle with, with my Roger-love-bombing-dopamine-trained brain craving the unhealthy hit of the love bomb. But he does say I’m the most squishy, cuddly, loving, caring, selfless woman he’s ever known.

He’s known a few.

Maybe the wrong kinds.

But I know I am very loving. And very lovable.

So, in this pit, affirmations are a tool I use, to build a tower to get out of it.



I’m slipping.

Quite badly.

Into a pit.

I’m aware that full lockdown can be difficult on your own, but I’ve been on my own a lot over the years. When we had kids that needed supervision, Rog went out on his own a lot. He needs people. Is social. I’m more of and introverted extrovert. Happy on my own in general.

But the past two days I feel like utter shit.

I’m doing all I know to stay safe. Talking to friends. Gardening. Getting outside. Taking the dogs for walks. Cooking.

Work is terrible. I HATE my job in lockdown. My boss is a control freak, and won’t allow off site tunnels into our database. I’m trying to work out of Dropbox, and the version she has set up is not editable. Trying to breathe through it, accept what I can’t do or change. I had a huge cry on Tuesday about it. Just went for a walk sobbing, trying to shake it off.

And my constant feelings of deep heartbreak are intensified at this time. I recognise this is due to the other pressures. I lost my person. I can’t lean into him. And while I’m very fond of BG, he’s not that person. He doesn’t have lifetime history with me. Understand who I am. He isn’t able to offer the comfort I need. I know this about him. About me.

Besides. He chose to stay at his place. And to be totally honest, he could have come here. I had to be here. Animals. So, I know what his priorities are. Not me, obviously. I accept that. And it won’t be dismissed as I go forward in this life. If he doesn’t value me…

And it makes me reflect on how the hell deep, deep love turns into this? This disdain. This complete disregard Norm has for me.

I don’t get it.

But, I have seen this before.

We had friends who seemed very much in love, so much fun.

He cheated. She left. And she just hated him. So much. Her heart was completely shattered.

I always wondered how the hell you go from decades of love to complete loathing. Rog and I discussed this phenomena. How? Why? We would always be the best of friends. That could never happen to us. We agreed. Right?

But guess what? We have no contact whatsoever. I am still utterly heartbroken. I don’t get it. If there is ever a need to contact each other, he is incredibly grumpy with me. To the point that I have massive anxiety and panic attacks about that contact. It is searingly painful as well.

I read about what happens. How does intense, deep, passionate love become this painful, dysfunctional, traumatic mess?

From Good Therapy

“So what’s “falling out of love”? The answer is: betrayal. You have opened up your soul; you’ve been vulnerable, and what did you get for it? You got hurt and betrayed. The betrayal doesn’t have to be as raw as cheating, although it can be that. But even ignoring a spouse when he or she is talking is betrayal. When this continues, the commonalities aren’t so apparent. Your spouse might be hurt, too.

Now, just suppose the two of you want to maintain the marriage. Maybe you’ve been married a long time. You may have had children together. How in the world can you get back to opening yourself up to someone who has hurt you? How can you possibly fall in love with such a person again? You are torn because it would be good to keep the relationship but the feelings just aren’t there. What can you do?

My answer is: Feeling can come back, but the process is backwards from the way it was the first time.

The first time, you just opened yourself up and there it was. You can’t do that this time. Even if you really would like to, your survival instincts won’t let that happen, and you must honor those.

Sadly, Rog just replaced me. He doesn’t feel any love for me. He just wishes I would curl up and die. I will never understand what happened to him. Except that I do know he wasn’t/isn’t as deep as I thought he was. He never felt this unbreakable bond. So he easily moved onto the next warm body, never had to unpack any of it. Snap. That’s over. Good. Next.

I despair that I will ever truly heal from the utter heartbreak. I try so damn hard. And feel like I am failing so badly at this.